Wraiths of the Past
by Bottle of Light
Summary: Many decades after the end of Inheritance, the story focuses on a young Rider and her dragon as they live life in the new paradise Eragon has built, and in time learns of a danger that has slumbered for ages and threatens the existence of the Riders and all other life. This is her story as she endeavors to save the new Riders and Alagaësia. Drop a review on what you think.
1. An Afternoon with Ebrithil

_We've a danger before us._

A girl kneeled on a little niche in the forest, like an alcove formed of branches shielding their child. Light filtered through the branches weakly and fell upon the child bowed over as if in prayer upon a bed of dry leaves. A green creature lay wrapped around its ward, a curved tail and long body standing out in sharp contrast to the brown and maroon layer beneath it surroundings.

_We've no right to do this, the risks-_

"Oh _do_ shut up about your risks Kalla. I know my limits." _I think_ the girl thought to herself with less certainty. But she would never betray her fear and anxiety to the creature. The subject of this fear was a small pile of leaves, freshly plucked. It was barely half a metre wide and only ten centimetres at its highest.

She exhaled, calming herself, and drew on her magic. To her it was like a kite tethered to the earth far below, and which she watched from the heavens. She only had to grasp the kite, and it would conduct power to her.

The girl furrowed her brow in concentration, ignoring the displeasure radiating from the creature. She saw the kite, and grabbed for it, and again, and again! There! She imagined the fabric rustling beneath her palms and its cord forming a conduit of power. All fatigue from sitting in that position for the time she had been there faded, replaced with renewed zeal.

The creature by her side seemed to want to intervene, to nip this incident in the bud, but the excitement was overflowing from the girl and into the lizard like creature, pervading the being's normally sensible mind.

"Reisa du laufsblädar lífblödh!"

A throbbing materialised in her head, akin to a headache. She stretched out her palms to just above the pile and concentrated harder, imagining power arcing back and forth across the kite's cord. The throbbing grew louder and she was aware of the creature next to her swaying in time with it.

But it grew louder still, and louder, and louder till it swallowed her world. There was no more trees, no more creature, and no more light. Just her, and the leaves. She saw the water in them being drawn out, seeping through tiny holes in the leaves' skin and coalescing into a visible whole. But it wasn't enough, more water was drawn out, forming tiny sphere's floating above the pile, sometimes joining to form larger ones. And still the throbbing continued.

The girl became aware of a tinny voice in a dark corner of her mind. More water came out. The throbbing continued.

_Frelsa…_

The edges of her consciousness dulled and her view of the world darkened. How was she seeing this? Weren't her eyes closed?

_Frelsa…_

She was dimly aware of a need to stop, but it seemed like a storm had materialised in her mind, whipping her kite back and forth. She was afraid to let go, lest the wind spirit her away.

_FRELSA, IF YOU DIE ON ME I WILL FIND YOUR SOUL IN THE AFTERLIFE AND SHOW YOU A DRAGON'S RAGE!_

The mental roaring brought her consciousness back to reality. Frelsa's immediately severed the flow of magic and felt what seemed like little raindrops falling upon her open palms. She cracked open one eyelid and saw that her hands were wet with the water she had drawn from the leaves, which now lay in one shrivelled, blackened pile of ash before her.

"Well that's something ain't it?" Frelsa exclaimed as she examined the pile of dry ash, turning to her companion.

_Yes, interesting. And nearly killed yourself at it didn't you? "I know my limits"?_ The dragon recited in annoyance.

"Of course I do, why do you think I managed to stem the magic flow?" She asked in mock arrogance.

The dragon heaved a mental sigh. She felt a hundred years older when she tried arguing with her Rider, and at this rate that number would probably ratchet up to a thousand.

"Hah, c'mon Kalla. Let's go tell Ebrithil."

_Seriously? Just like that? You nearly died back there!_

"Ah, but I didn't, did I?"

_Argh! You know, someday I'll…just go._

Frelsa got up and pushed aside a bunch of loose bushels of leaves, making space for her dragon to crawl through.

_You know, not to say I told you so, but…_

"I am a talented spell caster? I knew you believed in me."

They walked through the bright lit pathways of the island. Frelsa's little hideout was on the edge of the forest and opened up next to a dusty path that led straight to the main area of her adopted home.

Rounding a corner, she entered the main area, Festa eom Líf. Literally 'Learn to Live.'

A huge volcano dominated her view, rising thousands of metres into the air. Two long stone arms stretched down its sides and these tall arms formed the walls that defined Festa eom Líf. Against the left side, closet to Frelsa and Kalla, was the area frequented by dwarves and their dragons. A collection of low, stone houses and huts, a huge assembly of furnaces, forges and smelters. Dwarven riders stooped over anvils, hammering metals into strong weapons and fantastical ornaments, dragons by their side heating the metals to putty and moulding them with ease. Here metal was forged and smithed and hammered to great shapes and devices. The name for this place in common tongue was the Dwarf Corner, but their name for it was Knarnbzark. No one knew what this meant, save the dwarves. And their lips were sealed on the subject.

Next was the Men's Corner. The Dwarf corner was huge but only occupied half of the gargantuan left arm, the other half was the corner of men. Here the buildings varied greatly in architecture, some featuring the exquisite flowing beauty of the elves, other bore the sharp, acute angles of dwarves, but the majority bore the familiar shape of regular abodes of men. Most of the buildings here were two stories tall at least, the highest, the observatory, at seven. Humans and dragons there alike learned from masters of the same race. It shouldn't matter but young riders were more eager to learn from teachers of their own race.

On the right arm was the Elf Corner and Urgal Corner, both mysteries to the pair. The Urgal Corner was the largest, due to the right arm being greater in size to the left. It was composed of mud huts atop sandy ground, arranged in a circle radiating out from a central bonfire. Other races were welcome in any Corner, but… less welcome, in the Urgal Corner. At one point the Urgals wanted to make it a whole clan, there was more than enough space anyway, but the decision was declined due to political difficulties it would cause with the other races. But there was a clan of sorts, just less organised, one which Frelsa knew little of.

The Elf corner was the real anomaly. Unlike the other corners, it was a forest like the one that surrounded the rest of the volcano. Completely devoid of visible buildings, it appeared as nothing but a gathering of giant trees with indistinct shapes weaving in and out of them. No one wanted to encroach on the elves' territory, and they liked it that way.

In all the Corners the populace was made of not only dragons and their Riders, they were also filled scholars or resident tutors that volunteered to teach their craft to young Riders or the occasional eccentric trader selling goods for favours.

Frelsa and Kalla made their way to their goal, a small area between the Men's and Elf Corners. They cut through the huge sparring field on their way there.

She skirted a rowdy group of three Urgals and their snarling dragons, the lead Urgal, a young buck with a pair of horns that already curled once around, seemed to be challenging a dwarf to a head butting match. Further down the field two dragons wrestled with each other while a crowd had gathered around them cheering, the huge beasts carving deep furrows in the dirt and gouging scars in the grass that as a result of strange enchantments, immediately began to repair themselves. Even further away, two elves sparred with long, curved blades, drawing attention from all around them with their skill and speed.

_Amazing isn't it?_

"What? The elves?"

_No, this! Them, all of this. The largest gathering of our dragons and Riders since the glory days. And even then they didn't have these many races in their fold!_

"Yes, it is quite amazing. I can't believe Ebrithil founded this!"

_Yes. The largest gathering of different raced two-legs without you tearing each other apart._

The Urgal gang leader was now at blows with the dwarf, both rolling in the dirt and raining punches and kicks and other assorted attacks on each other.

_Well, mostly._

Kalla was not a large dragon, being only a few months old. She was almost the size of an average sized horse but tiny compared to some of the old hands. Their dragons were huge, towering above many of the buildings there. Then there were the wild ones, they rarely, if ever, came into Festa eom Líf. The island was divided in two, Festa eom Líf and a portion of the forest on the South side, and the North belonged to the wild ones. A huge, unbroken forest. The trees there were so huge that even the biggest dragon could remain hidden there. In fact Frelsa realised she had only seen one in her whole stay on the island, a brilliant yellow wyrm soaring far overhead. It was an unspoken rule never to encroach on their territory.

Kalla wanted to visit one of the Dwarf smiths, Hothgeir, a friendly dwarf who was the one who now forged the rider's weapons, but Frelsa was determined to report to Ebrithil her success.

They came to the spot between the Men's and Elf Corner, a clearing devoid of any buildings. Here the mountain met ground, and Ebrithil's wisdom met his student's ignorance.

_There he is! _Frelsa thought. She could feel Kalla rolling her eyes, kind of hard to miss him and his huge blue dragon.

The man wore a simple silk robe of some sort, probably elfin, and lay against his dragon's belly with one hand on the sheathed blue sword across his lap. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, head angled upwards and serenely smiling at the sky. His dragon's side rose and fell as she took in gargantuan breaths. There was nothing further beyond but the side of the mountain, dotted with sparse vegetation and young trees upon the steep mountain side.

Frelsa grew timid as she drew near, her mind brushing against the powerful consciousness of the pair.

_Greetings Ebrithil._

He didn't even open his eyes and said, "No need for formalities here, only when I'm teaching. You can use my name."

"Of course, E-Eragon."

* * *

Saphira stirred, her large head rising off the ground and she stared straight at Frelsa and Kalla.

_Greetings, little ones._

Kalla backpedalled furiously as the head came close. The blue dragon was so big that the green one was barely larger than Saphira's head. The giant creature made a strange noise, as if it was laughing.

"So, have you done as I asked?"

"Y-Yes, Ebrithil. I drew the lifeblood from leaves, a leaf, I mean. It would have been easier if you'd just told me how to say 'water' in the Ancient Language."

_And nearly killed yourself at it, _Kalla reminded her Rider._ It may not be wise to tell him the whole truth._

She disregarded the green dragon. "I did as you said, but uh… I…" She would never reveal it but she feared that Kalla may be right.

_Speak your mind, Frelsa,_ Saphira _said._

Kalla shook her head disapprovingly. "I found a single leaf too easy, little a challenge I mean. I decided to use the same spell on several leaves at once."

"Well done, I assume you took precautions? You didn't risk overexerting yourself?"

"Um…"

Eragon finally opened his eyes and his normally calm features distorted in alarm. "What happened?"

"I _did_ take quite a few leaves…"

"How many?" When an answer was not forthcoming Eragon turned to Frelsa's dragon. "Speak, Kalla."

_Not many, she only took-_

"Thorta du ilumëo!"

Kalla stiffened. _82 leaves in total._

Her green body loosened up and relaxed.

The tall Rider stared at Frelsa accusingly. "You knew the risks associated?"

She nodded.

"And you did not stop her?" He looked at Kalla now.

The green dragon shook her head. _I tried but-_

Eragon silenced her with one raised hand. He let his head fall back against Saphira's armoured side. The sounds emanating from the sparring field seemed to dull to silence. Frelsa realised how interesting her shoes were.

_You knew how dangerous it was, yet still did so? Why? _Saphira asked, her huge blue eyes twinkling in the noon day sunlight.

"I guess… I got frustrated?"

_Why?_

Frelsa heaved a sigh of relief. This was the exact conversation she had played out in her mind countless times in her impatience during lessons.

"I mean no disrespect, but the tasks you give Kalla and I are no challenge. Raise a stone, draw water from a leaf. You know I can do it! But you still give them to me. I just… needed to show you I can do more."

To her amazement, Eragon's frown slowly dissipated and the tips of his mouth lifted in a smile. She heard him murmur to himself, "History repeats itself…" Even the disappointment emanating from Saphira lifted slightly, replaced by amusement as she turned to Eragon and had a silent conversation with him.

After a while, he opened his eyes again and seemed surprised that Frelsa and Kalla still stood there. She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of a verbal lashing. Instead, she heard the Rider say reassuringly, "Relax, Frelsa. You too Kalla. Lay down and appreciate the day."

She looked up timidly, and glanced at her dragon, and asked, _Did that just happen?_

_Yup._

_So do you think we should…?_

_Yup again._

The dragon nuzzled the small of her Rider's back, urging her forward.

_Oh, let me go first huh?_

But after an eternity under the watchful eye of the blue behemoth they curled up next to each other on the right of Eragon and close to Saphira's head. They were apprehensive to get so close to the intimidating dragon.

Frelsa glanced at Eragon and tried to adopt his posture, arms crossed, legs straight, head angled straight up into the sky. She leaned against Kalla and tried to relax. Breathe deep, clear your mind and all that philosophical drivel that elf, Khaline, had forced onto her. But she kept twitching, shifting. Cheering soon reached her ears, the boisterous calls of Dwarves and the hoarse roars of Urgals. Was the gang leader still wrestling with the Dwarf? A dragon roared somewhere in the distance. A bird screeched. Metal clanged on metal. Another roar. She was about to speak out when Eragon's voice reached her ears.

"What interests you, Frelsa?"

This question took her aback. She had expected to be the one asking. "Uh, magic."

"Evidently."

"Kalla, music…"

_Dying?_ Kalla suggested with mock innocence.

"… and art."

Eragon seemed to ponder this for a moment, then his eyes opened and he spoke again, "Art hmmm? Then we've a subject of interest to learn. Tell me, do you know what a fairth is?"

"No, but may I ask what is the point of this?"

"Many find it easier to learn and actually _follow_ rules pertaining to a subject of interest to them, so answer me, do you know what a fairth is?"

"I don't think so, but it does sound familiar."

"Perhaps you've seen the slate tablets all over the island? Much like painted tablets, in houses and buildings?"

"Yes, Ebrithil." She'd always wondered why they did not just use an easier medium to paint on.

"Not Ebrithil, just Eragon. Those slate tablets are fairths. They are made with magic, capturing the likeness of an image on a slate tablet. Here, I shall show you."

Eragon reached into his silk robe and produced three tablets. As he did so, Kalla complained, _Art? The things humans learn. Wake me when this is over._

_Who knows? You might gain an eye for it someday,_ Frelsa replied, in good spirits now that a lashing had been averted.

Eragon put two of the tablets on the grass besides him and lay the last across his sheathed sword on his lap. He stretched one hand over the tablet and in seconds colour began to appear on the surface. Pigments appeared and swirled in an indistinct maelstrom of colour for a split second before arranging themselves in a perfect depiction of the scene before them. He looked over it once and held it up for Saphira to see, who rumbled in response. Eragon passed the tablet to Frelsa.

The first thought she had, _Gods above, I'm having a one on one class with the Shadeslayer? How am I not freaking out? _The next was, _Wow. _The fairth captured Festa eom Líf better than any artist could hope to. Tiny figures were captured as they scrambled around buildings tall and short, in perfect detail down to the last buckle and strap. The Sun was in the same position in the fairth as it was before her, and even the colour on the tablet was so brilliant and bright that she feared if she focused too much on it she would be blinded. And beyond Festa eom Líf the sea stretched out to the horizon, light reflecting off each wave.

Frelsa sat there for what must have been a good five minutes, completely engrossed in the fairth. Hothgeir had once said that her weakness was that anything she deemed pretty immediately captivated her and commanded her attention. And she knew he was right.

"And you say I'll be able to make one like this?"

Eragon smiled at the anticipation upon her face. "In time, but you should not hope for great things with your first, second, even fifth fairth."

"What are we waiting for? Let's start!"

The smile lingered on Eragon's face for a moment longer, before it became troubled again. Frelsa grew worried. "Ebrithil?"

"Nothing, just… a memory. Yes. Let us begin."

By the end of an hour, Frelsa had two coloured fairths and a frustrated spirit. Her first fairth had barely taken a few minutes, but all that had resulted was a jumble of green and blue with a bit of maroon and dark on the sides. Eragon suggested that she take more time to concentrate on her second so she had spent almost forty minutes just staring at Festa eom Líf in silence, broken only by the occasional murmurs from Kalla about deer stew or something. But in the end her second fairth resembled an impressionist's take on the scene, nothing like Eragon's crystal clear and razor sharp fairth.

As Eragon elaborated to her the mechanics of this magic and how it worked, Frelsa heard laughing nearby. Eragon paused. "Looks like your class is here."

She looked up and saw two dragons swooping in, locked in aerial combat. One brown, one the colour of steel. The brown one was heavier built, muscle clearly defined across its length, front teeth resembling tusks. But the grey one was faster, twisting and turning out of the brown's clutches. The two fought and descended as they flew, drawing closer to Eragon and Frelsa. Though the dragon's snarls were fierce and their snaps were dangerous, it was evident that the Riders weren't fighting to kill, their strikes didn't carry as much weight behind them as a killer's would.

Kalla stirred awake as the brown roared. _Ah, the testosterone fuelled duels males conduct._

The two dragons came closer and their riders came into view, a bare chested Urgal rode the brown, a one handed axe with a strangely reflective copper coloured axe in hand, rode the brown. The grey dragon's rider was a man, helmet pulled low over his face, armour shining and tunic flapping in the wind. On his belt was a grey scabbard and he swung the steel coloured sword over his head, clashing against the other Rider's axe.

Soon, both dragons alighted on either side of Saphira. The riders alighted, sheathed their weapons and rushed forward to greet Eragon. They spoke as one. "Greetings, Ebrithil."

"Greetings, Drukjl, Shepherd. Come, sit down with me."

Drukjl, the Urgal, a young buck with horns that had just made one full revolution, grunted in reply and gave Shepherd a brotherly whack on the shoulder before taking his place on the ground on the left of Frelsa. Shepherd sat on her right and pulled off his helmet.

Shepherd's dragon, Errol, barely larger than Kalla, crawled forward and remarked, _Kalla? You and your Rider, early? This is new._

His voice was deeper than Kalla's, and tinted with humour. She snapped back playfully, _It isn't my fault we're always late, ask Frelsa._

Shepherd didn't even disagree with his dragon's remarks, instead nodding in agreement.

"The nerve," Frelsa muttered to Kalla just loud enough for Shepherd and Errol to hear.

Drukjl's dragon, Dýrgrir, slightly larger than Errol, lumbered over to his Rider and allowed him to reach up and scratch his chin.

_Behave, little dragon,_ Dýrgrir shot at Errol proudly. His voice was several times more gravelly than his victim's.

_Little? _Errol asked in outrage.

"Calm your fire breather," Drukjl said. "Or you shall have a reason to."

None of these threats bore weight, Drukjl and Shepherd were quite famous for the fact that they were the closet human and Urgal on the island. In fact, they were the only human and Urgal who actually enjoyed company of the other race.

_Calm, little ones._

Saphira need only say these three words to draw attention to her, who dared to disobey her? Eragon cleared his throat, "Now, what should we learn today?"

Shepherd gestured to Frelsa's fairths. "How about those?"

"No, it's a private lesson. Neither you nor Drukjl would find interest in it."

Shepherd glanced at Frelsa, seeming to ask: Private lesson? She mouthed back that she'd tell him later.

Drukjl spoke up. "Your quest on Shashnark. The Mainland."

Frelsa perked up. She took any opportunity she could to hear stories of her home. She'd been found on the island shores asleep in a pitch sealed box, seven years of age and no memory of her past. She didn't know her past but Alagaësia was still home to her.

"My quest? You haven't heard the story yet?"

Drukjl made a croaking sound, as if he found the question funny. "Of course we have, Dur Firesword," Drukjl stated, using the Urgal honorific for great teacher. "It would be hard to live on this island and not hear of it."

Eragon's exploits in the war were the stuff of legend among the young Riders, tales of how he slew a shade, used nothing but magic to tear apart gates and throw an opposing dragon aside. And the greatest story was of his duel with the Old King. Frelsa herself had heard the story countless times, but never from Eragon himself.

_Is it true that Fire-tongue and you fought and bested Ushnark by your own? _Dýrgrir asked.

Eragon glanced at Saphira as if referring to an inside joke, who replied, _Not exactly, but it is a story for another time._

"Is it true that you infiltrated Dras-Leona through the tunnels below and slew the High Priest of Helgrind?" Shepherd asked with admiration shining in his eyes.

"Bah, everyone knows that one. Was it true you fell a thousand metres in a fight against the Red Thorn and Murtagh onto Fire-tongue?" Drukjl asked.

"I'd say a thousand is a bit exaggerated," chuckled Eragon.

"Don't mind Drukjl, Ebrithil. But how about your sword, is it true you and Rhunön forged it in one night?" Shepherd inquired.

"Did you and Fire-tongue actually study under Oromis and Glaedr? The only survivors of the Fall?" Drukjl asked this time.

"Students…" Eragon started. But it was no use, Drukjl and Shepherd had started on one of their competitive streaks again. Both began to shout out facts and questions to Eragon, endeavouring to get their master to answer them first.

Saphira cocked one head at them, before growling both mentally and in real life at them, adding, _Little ones, calm the fire in your hearts._

_How about you, Frelsa? You have not spoken your mind on the subject yet._

She looked at Kalla and asked, _What do you think we should ask about?_

The green dragon looked back and said, _Your call. Saphira asked you._

Frelsa thought for a while before answering. "Uh… the Agaetí Blödhren?"

She hadn't known what else to pick but Eragon seemed to smile at the reminder of this event. "Well, we've burned enough time idling. Gather close and we shall begin. Closer than that, I've no wish to repeat myself."

"Let's see, let's see, it began with the werelight. At the stroke of midnight, the Queen of the elves then, Queen Islanzadí reached her left arm to the new moon and seemed to draw a light from it, and produced a small white orb. She walked up the Menoa tree, the matriarch of the forest, the eldest and largest tree, and set the orb in a hollow there. The celebration would end when the light faded to dark. And thus it was begun."

Eragon smiled to himself at these words.

"A feast ensued, tables laden high with fantastical dishes that would make you salivate in the presence of them. At the time I couldn't believe that all of it was devoid of meat. Songs were sung, songs of heroes and quests and ships and also of sorrow of things past. The voices of the elves flowed over each other smoother than creek water, joining with each other, weaving and interlacing together into one great melody. In the madness ensuing, I'm not sure if I slept or slumbered at all."

"I danced with a maiden, listened to the riddles of elves upon the Menoa's branches, heard the riddles of many elves, foremost among them Queen Islanzadí's and… anyway, we saw works of wonders contributed to the celebration. Intricate puzzles, entertaining toys, beautiful arts and strong yet elegant weapons. Many of them I didn't have a clue of their purpose. A shield that would send a sword back with the same force it was swung with, a sculpture of a heron in flight, somehow suspended above a stone pedestal. Rhunön presented an unbreakable shield, gloves that would not melt within molten lead and a sculpture of a wren in flight, made from a solid block of metal and seemed alive."

"I saw great and strange beasts, a she-wolf that appeared in the form of a woman with a grin of dagger teeth. And some elves were just as strange. One seemed like a cat, garbed in fur, another pair had webbed fingers and gills. Their skin was wet and slime layered. There was another with scales like a dragon and fire in him, another who seemed akin to shadow, those who were tall as trees and looked like them, and those with pale eyes with no pupils. The Menoa tree seemed to sway and shake in tune to the melody around us."

"On the third day I sung my song. I would not want to bore you with its full length, but it personified my experiences and journey since becoming a rider, and though I deemed it mediocre the other elves praised me. It now lies in the great library in Tialdarí Hall, but I have another copy in my chambers, which I would be more than willing to share with you all. I learned that Saphira had a flair for art, and presented her offering."

Saphira continued the narrative. _My offering was a black stone, thrice my size. The sides of the stone flowed into each other as if they were waves, connecting and joining each other in an endless tapestry. You could follow one wave across the pillar's side but find that it never had an end. I had made it through heating the stone till the outside grew molten and licked it into intricate shapes._

"It was the most beautiful offering there," Eragon stated.

_You think so? Well, I guess it was because it was _my _offering after all._

They continued the story, listing down such amazing and strange creations wrought by the elves that Frelsa was doubtful that some of the descriptions were entirely accurate.

"The werelight dimmed, the celebration was entering its twilights. Queen Islanzadí gave a speech pertaining to the celebration, and how new hope had presented itself in the form of I and Saphira, and how they honour the blood-oath made between Riders and Dragons ages past and reaffirm it. A clearing was made, ringed with a ring of lanterns. Flutes were blown, harps were strung and drums were beaten. Two elf maids came to the centre of the clearing and stood back to back. Iduna and Nëya, the Caretakers. They unclasped their robes and upon their body was a large, unbroken tattoo of a dragon. The dragon's tail wrapped around the ankle of one and its head ended on the other's chest. Each scale was a different colour and seemed to shine like a rainbow. The pair began their dance, twining and twisting together so the dragon became a whole. They stamped as one. And again. As they stomped, the musicians joined in the dance, adding their instruments to the chorus. And the Caretakers began to twist and turn, undulating around the clearing. Their dragon seemed to fly across their bodies."

"They spun faster and joined their voices to the symphony. The Dragons present, Saphira and Glaedr, hummed along, their voices resonating through my bones. The Caretakers danced so fast that they were a blur, and then a flash of light along their bodies. Their tattoo, the dragon, a shiver passed along its length. It stretched its wings and flew, removing itself from the constraints of the Caretaker's body though its tail remained anchored there. It roared. And its roar seemed so real, it was no phantom. You knew it had power within it, and you were afraid of that power. It looked at me. And its eyes, you would be drawn to them, and into them. They had the flare of life within them. It spoke to me: _Our gift, so you may do what you must._ And it bent down and with its snout touched the centre of my gedwëy ignasia heat flowed through my body and I felt pain as I had never imagined, retreating deep within myself to escape."

Eragon relaxed. "When I woke, I was devoid of any scars. The tiniest wound was gone. And the worst as well. You understand how human riders grow to be like elves in time? I underwent a transformation like that, except it was compressed from decades to an instantaneous effect. I had the body of an elf, I had power unbeknownst to me before, I had the power to defeat Galbatorix."

Eragon lay his sword, Brisingr, on the grass next to him and stared at his students expectantly. "So? What do you think of my story?"

Shepherd's eyes were wide with awe. Frelsa too. Drukjl's expression was unreadable. He answered in his gravelly tones, "It was interesting, I've never heard much of this Blood-Oath Celebration."

_Yes, and even those we hear and read of don't compare to a first-hand account,_ Kalla mused.

Shepherd, toying with a blade of grass, spoke, "This was the only time you visited this celebration?"

"Indeed, I've not been back to Alagaësia since Galbatorix was dethroned, so I have not had a hope to attend another Agaetí Blödhren with teaching the new Riders."

Errol cocked his head to one side. _A fine tale, Ebrithil. But how about tell us another more exciting one? How about one of your battles with the Thorn and Murtagh or Galbatorix himself!_

Kalla gave a playful snap in Errol's direction. _Don't pressure Ebrithil. It's his past, it's his choice._

_We have no time left today anyway,_ Saphira cut in. Her voice was so unexpected that Kalla and Errol jerked back in surprise. Frelsa gave a short laugh.

"Saphira's right. I've whiled away our time talking of the past. Look, it's already twilight."

Frelsa looked behind her. Indeed, the sun was sinking below the horizon and its white rays had faded to crimson, stretching across the dark sky like long fingers.

Eragon shooed them away as he lay back against Saphira's side and closed his eyes, returning to the position Frelsa and Kalla had found them in. Saphira herself lay her head against the ground and her bony eyelid slid shut.

Shepherd spoke to Frelsa, "Meet you back at the Grid."

He and Drukjl mounted their dragons. Shepherd nodded to Drukjl. "Another round over the field?"

"You mean another victory for me over the field?"

"Oh it's on."

Errol and Dýrgrir took flight, roaring at each other as they slammed into each other, each trying to gain dominance over the other as their Riders drew their weapons and struck each other. Frelsa lingered a moment longer. She turned back to Eragon. "Uh, Ebrithil."

"Outside of your class I am Eragon."

"Yes, Eragon." She still felt awkward addressing him by name. "About the fairths."

"Hmmm? Oh yes, you can come to me anytime for additional practice. I believe the library has some tomes on the subject. You shall find some slate tablets in your chambers. Now leave me and Saphira. We would enjoy some time alone."

"Yes."

She walked alongside Kalla as they journeyed back to the Men's Corner. She'd have preferred to ride her but she'd left her saddle back in her quarters.

_So what did you think of the story?_ Kalla asked.

_Let's just say, I have a new take on the 'fair folk'. Fish-elves? Seriously?_

Frelsa passed through the invisible boundary that defined the Men's Corner. Her breathing immediately slowed down and she became calm. This was her home.

The buildings rose on either side. Most of the buildings here were only one or two stories high but as she got further in they rose higher. But what was striking was how gigantic they were. The smallest door was four times her height, and even one story tall buildings were large enough for a dragon of Saphira's size to walk around comfortably. The taller buildings were more slender and bore elfin signs of architecture and favoured green and other cool colours and the shortest ones had the sharp edges and dark colour scheme of the dwarves. They were arranged in neat rows with alleys, perpendicular to the main road she was walking on. The alleys were wide enough for the largest dragon to walk down comfortably, and the main road she walked down was large enough for three!

Dragon roars regularly rang out and clangs of metal still sounded through the pathways. The scent of dragons and dried parchment were everywhere, mingled with the scent of burnt parchment.

Most of the buildings down the alleyways were reserved as housing for scholars and the sort who came to study on their island from time to time. There were so many of them in the Men's Corner that there were as many librarians and scholars and what not as the number of Riders.

Riders and scholars continually entered and exited the alleyways onto the main road, a wide, straight stretch of cobbled pathway. A few dragons, twelve to be exact, walked down the road alongside their riders. A dragon flew overhead, judging by the lack of a saddle or Rider, was probably a dragon going off to hunt while his Rider was busy.

While Frelsa was completely at ease here, this was her life after all, Kalla was on edge. She subconsciously walked closer to her Rider and pressed her wings flat against her body and slinked close to the ground.

_Oh relax, Kalla. If you can't relax here, then when can you?_

_When we get to our quarters. Now move. I've no wish to get trampled by one of th- oh…_

_What is it, w- oh..._

There was no other words to describe it other than gigantic. A huge dragon walked proudly down the centre of the main road. His scales were a deep, rich orange and his jutting chin was tilted upwards. His thick limbs shook the cobblestones with each step and his orange irises panned over the crowd before him as he made his way to the exit of the Men's Corner. Men, dragons and Riders alike stiffened as he neared and shied away from him.

_Is that…_ Frelsa asked Kalla. She didn't need to finish her sentence for her dragon to know her question.

_It is. Rimgrun. A real, wild dragon._

As Rimgrun walked down a saddled crimson dragon nearly twice as large as Kalla but still a fraction the size of Rimgrun exited an alleyway and nearly ran into the great wild dragon. The red dragon was taken aback and instinctively growled at its huge adversary.

_Ohhh, he's dead now. _Kalla remarked with humor.

The humongous dragon stopped in its tracks. He slowly turned and stared down at the red dragon in the eyes. The red dragon snarled at first but soon fear entered its eyes and its snarl turned to a whimper. He tucked his tail between his legs and raced down the alleyway the way he had come.

Rimgrun passed them, and Frelsa backed up against the wall of the nearest building. She felt an immense presence bearing down on her mind, mighty and powerful. She called up iron walls of protection and struggled to hold them up against the dragon's power, and as she did so saw Rimgrun's eyes focus on her for a moment as he lumbered past, those huge eyes staring into her soul, swirling maelstroms of orange storms that plucked her deepest secrets from her mind. Then the contact was broken. The presence left her mind as if she was not worth the trouble.

Rimgrun cut a path for himself through the crowd, everyone parting for him. Wild dragons were both respected and feared, and Rimgrun was one of the greatest of them. He was supposedly the third generation from the original eggs Eragon had somehow rescued from Gods know where.

"Look at that!" Frelsa exclaimed to herself.

_Did you see how strong he looked? How tall he was? He must be ten times bigger than me! And his eyes, how deep they were…_

Frelsa sighed to herself. Kalla always swooned for every wild dragon she saw.

_Where do you think he's off to?_

"C'mon. You said we gotta get back?"

_Yes, but why don't we just go and follow Rimgrun, see where he goe-_

"Off we go!"

* * *

_Wait._

"What is it?" Frelsa asked impatiently. She'd want nothing more than to take a long nap in her quarters.

_I smell something._

"This is the heart of Men's Corner! It'd be a wonder if you didn't smell anything!" Indeed, in the heart of the Corner the alleyways were crammed with scholars and alchemists concocting strange potions. The smell of smoke reached Frelsa's nose. Then she smelt something else, something fainter. She couldn't place it, but it seemed familiar.

_I think… I think I might know what it is, _Kalla spoke with confidence.

"What?"

_I'm not entirely sure but… oh! I remember! Follow me!_

Kalla bounded down the road, a green blur against the dark cobblestones. Frelsa struggled to keep up. "Wait!"

She mumbled sorry to a scholar she bumped, who looked pretty flustered after she had made him drop his tome. She ducked under the outstretched wing of a large dragon and pressed close to a wall to slip past a Rider and his dragon.

Kalla still ran, and Frelsa heard her counting._ 1…2…3…yes!_

The green dragon made a sharp turn and entered an alleyway. Frelsa hesitated for a while before following her. She passed rows of buildings lit with lanterns and candles, then the buildings she began to pass were unlit except by the fading sunlight. The buildings she was passing now were not habituated at all. What was Kalla looking for? A roar reached her ear, and she recognized it as Errol's. Was Shepherd still fighting with Drukjl?

Then she saw the low wall that separated the Men's Corner from the Dwarves Corner. The low wall was not much use at separating the two Corners, men and dwarves regularly vaulted the wall to get to the other side. Was Kalla going to visit Hothgeir? But no, at the last building she turned and jumped through the window of the building. She felt happiness emanating from her link with Kalla. What was going on?

Frelsa reached the building and pressed against the wall next to the door and listened. She heard faint voices.

"Kalla! It's been… you been? What… doing?"

She couldn't stand it any longer. Someone was in there with her Kalla. She rounded the corner and shot through the cloth flap that served as a door, then immediately raised her hands to shield her eyes from the light.

Frelsa reached to her side to draw her sword then realised it was at her quarters. She had not taken it since morning when she left. So devoid of a weapon, she reached out with her mind.

Kalla's presence, nothing wrong there, countless minds of small animals, quite a number of exotic plants, and then a human. She lashed out with her mind at the anomaly, and soon found herself lashed back at. The human didn't bother to set up defences, instead invading Frelsa's mind to protect herself. Frelsa drew up the walls in her mind and waited, but the attack never came.

"Oh, put your arm down. I won't bite."

Frelsa knew she really shouldn't but she did so anyway. Kalla had been so intent on getting here, and she trusted her judgement. She was stunned by what she saw.

Kalla had led her to what seemed a strange mish mash of creatures. A trio of birds fluttered in the rafters above and from the same rafters long vines and capes of moss hung down. Vines of morning glory poured out of a single crack in a wall. A gecko with a yellow belly and blue scales raced up a wall as a spider the size of Frelsa's head leaped after it. The whole room was lit up by two blazing lanterns, one on a desk and another hanging from the rafters. And at the centre of it all, leaning on the desk, was a short woman with thick, curly brown hair. By the way Kalla was at ease next to her, lying down on the mossy floor on the stranger's right, it was clear they knew each other.

"Who are you?" Frelsa asked.

"Me?" The stranger asked, as if for reaffirmation. "My name is Angela."

The name struck a chord but she still could not place it. "Your name sounds…familiar."

"Familiar? That's all? Blast Eragon, I'd hoped that he would include me in some epics of his," Angela said. She now turned to Kalla, "Like it? I've taken an interest in botany recently."

Frelsa spoke in her mind to Kalla, _How do you know this Angela?_

_Remember two years back when I disappeared for a week?_ Kalla replied sheepishly.

_Got me a lashing, you mean. So?_

_Well, I was lost in one of the alleyways, and eventually wound up at Angela's shop. I like her._

_Well that is evident, _Frelsa replied glumly. She was usually mistrusting of strangers who commanded Kalla's affections.

Kalla spoke now both to Angela and Frelsa. _Solembum isn't here, where is he?_

"Oh, probably out hunting rats or chasing down a bird."

"Wait, who's Solembum?" Frelsa asked. She did not like being kept in the dark.

"Oh, just a werecat. Mind you, don't try and force prophecies out of him, he'll give you a real scratching. I know from experience."

_Werecat? Kalla, are you sure we can trust this… I'm not even sure she's human. Did you feel her mind?_

_What happened to 'relaxing'? She's a friend. If a werecat is willing to be her companion than why should we fear her?_

"So, Angela. What… do you do around here?"

The woman turned to look at Frelsa, and she was taken aback by how striking her eyes were, how they seemed to shine. "Oh, I water my plants. Grind a few dried mushrooms, botany and herbs and whatnot, you wouldn't find it interesting. But in my spare time, I've been trying to raise Red."

"Red?" Both Frelsa and Kalla were in the dark on this subject.

"Exactly. Wait, let me show you, Red ! Come on out Red!"

There was a peculiar rolling noise and out from under the desk came a strange creature. It was barely half a metre tall, with a large head and a fairly straight body and tail. It stood on strong hind legs and had stubby, seemingly useless, little two-fingered arms that seemed useless. Its skin was like a lizard's but brick red and its back and tail was covered in large, thick, stone-like plates of armour with black protrusions like small spikes at regular intervals. The stone plate on its large head grew over its forehead to form a heavy brow of armour that seemed made for head-butting, giving it a top-heavy appearance. Its eyes were like little furnaces, blazing with fire.

Kalla snorted in surprise as the creature gave a little burp and a puff of flame left its mouth. Frelsa backed up. "What in the name of the Gods is that?"

"Oh don't be so alarmed, this is Red! He's a salamander," Angela pointed out matter-o-factly, like it should be obvious.

_I was under the impression salamanders were water dwellers with wet skin,_ Kalla said as she curiously sniffed Red, who whimpered as she got close.

"Oh those are just newts, I've proved it myself! Real salamanders look like Red, they grow much bigger of course, and they grow as fast as dragons! I've started on botany to try and find which plants affect their growth."

"How old is he?" Frelsa asked as she watched Red begin to chew on the side of the desk.

"No chewing on mommy's furniture. Oh, he's only five months. Funny story actually, I met a man with a donkey with a bald patch of fur that resembled a rooster's head. The man had cheated me in the past in a game of Knucklebones so I played a game with him to show I was superior. I won one of his exotic caged pets. Between you and me, I cheated."

"And Red can breathe fire?"

_Dragons don't breathe till they're six months, at least, _Kalla remarked in admiration for the little armoured creature.

"Oh, dragons and salamanders are very, very closely related, but Red could breathe from their first day. All salamanders can. I've been trying to name him something other than drab old 'Red'," Angela spat out the name in disgust. "But he won't accept anything else. Can you believe he'd turn down the name Winkershmaw?"

Angela whispered, seemingly afraid that Red would eavesdrop, and she spoke as if refusing to be named Winkershmaw was unbelievable.

Red curled into a ball, tucking in his strong legs and short arms, adopting a foetal-like position. His tail was long enough that when he curled up it reached past his forehead.

"What's he doing?" Frelsa asked.

"Oh, moving around is hard with all that armour. So they've come up with an ingenious solution!"

As Red curled up Frelsa noticed that all his armour plated now faced outwards, protecting his soft skin. He tipped back, then forth, then began to roll. It was strange, watching the creature roll back to under the desk with such speed.

"Well, Angela, it's been a pleasure meeting you, but we must leave," Frelsa stated. She didn't exactly feel comfortable in the herbalist's domain.

"Oh it's fine. People are busy on this island. Always scurrying around the place looking for something to do. That's why I chose this spot, no scurriers to come and disturb me. This isn't the last time we'll meet."

"Uh-huh." Frelsa was glad to be leaving. "Kalla, come on. We've gotta go."

Kalla reluctantly got up and followed her Rider out. As she opened up the tent flap and exited into the alleyway, she heard Angela chuckle from behind her.

"No, it's definitely not the last time we'll meet. Now who wants potato slices Red?"

_You trust that crazy old witch? _Frelsa asked her dragon.

_I trust Solembum. If he'd been there, you would trust her too._

_Oh sure I would._

_Yes, yes you are._

They bantered like this for a long time until they reached the Grid. At the very end of the main road was a large circular courtyard. In the centre of the courtyard was the observatory, stretching high into the dark sky. Arranged in an orderly fashion, radiating out from the courtyard in a grid-like fashion, was the Rider's quarters. Each building accommodated two Riders and their dragons, and was three stories tall. The night lanterns were beginning to light themselves, floating from concealed crevices and onto posts and stands.

Frelsa followed directions she knew by heart. _Turn right from the road, follow the courtyard till you passed the eighth passageway then turn right. Pass the first building, and you have reached your home._

Even here, the small alleyways were big enough for a dragon five times Kalla's size to walk. Kalla was only about the size of a large horse. Frelsa and Kalla entered the alleyway then turned past the first building, and reached their 'house'.

Once they entered through the huge doors, made to allow dragons through, it became clear that they were not alone. Shepherd already lay on his bed, soiling the clean sheets with his dirty armour. There was a second floor, more like the bare floor of the second floor. That floor was reserved for the dragons, if they wanted to sleep away from their Riders. There was more than enough space one the first floor for both to sleep in peace. It was also used a landing pad for the dragons and they could take off from it. Above the second floor was an empty space till the roof far above, which could be opened with magic to let light in or keep rain out. There was a skylight in the floor of the second floor to allow the dragons the move up and down. The whole building was shaped like a human house with a roof that sloped gently to one side.

On the first floor, the two back rooms were two separate shower and bath areas, which could be locked from inside. The main area of the first floor however, was four beds, two perpetually empty. Each bed was placed at one corner of the area and had a cupboard and wardrobe to themselves. There was also a folding changing screen for each bed. The area in between the beds, at the centre of the room, was designed to be a communal study area, filled with soft, padded chairs.

Frelsa noticed a stack of slate tablets on her bed, just as Eragon promised.

Kalla flew up through the skylight to join Errol who was most probably already there. Frelsa went to wash herself up, but not before wrinkling her nose in disgust at Shepherd. "We have these elven bath stations for a reason you dirty little…"

He just grunted in reply, dignified as ever. After she had washed up using the bath station, she had never gotten over her amazement at the baths, she exited to find a clean and groomed Shepherd in the same position as just now, lying tired on his bed. Except now he wore a fresh red tunic and his brown hair wasn't greasy with sweat.

"How did you..." Frelsa was still wiping her hair as she left the shower room. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"Hah!" Shepherd exclaimed.

He got up and seated himself in one of the comfortable chairs at the study area under the skylight while Frelsa sat on her bed.

"So what's this I hear? Frelsa, actually going for one-on-one classes with Eragon? Actually doing more than her due? It's a miracle!"

Frelsa scowled at him. "Sure, sure. Just ask Kalla, she'll back me up right?"

_Miracle it is, _came the reply from above.

Shepherd gave a laugh and asked again, "So, tell me. What's the deal with these lessons?"

"What deal?"

"The Frelsa I know would never go for extra lessons without something in it for her."

"You don't believe I just want to be a great student?"

A glance at Shepherd's incredulous face was the answer.

"Fine, remember the incantation Eragon gave us? Reisa du laufsblädar lífblödh?"

"Yeah, 'Raise these leaves' lifeblood'. Should've just told us how to say water. So?"

Frelsa continued, "So he just said prepare the incantation, he'd use it in a future lesson. But I tried it myself, on one leaf and it was easy enough. So-"

"You tried it on a pile of leaves?"

Frelsa was surprised. "How'd you know?"

Shepherd chuckled as he poured himself a cup of water from a glass pitcher. "Frelsa, I've lived with you ever since you've gotten your dragon. That's what, three years? I know more about you than you think."

"Alright, so I try it on a pile of leaves, then it went well enough."

_She nearly blacked out. And would've died if not for me._

"Who's telling the story here?" Frelsa asked, glancing pointedly at the ceiling. "Anyways, so I go tell Ebrithil. He gets mad for a while, then he calms down and asks me what interests me. I say art, so he starts teaching me how to make fairths. Using magic to 'paint' a scene before you on a slate tablet."

"So that's what they're for."

"Yup, then you two showed up."

Shepherd took a swig from his glass of water. "You do know you're in dangerous territory don't you?"

"What?"

"It's dangerous for a…" Shepherd gestured at her. "…female, to go for private lessons with Eragon."

"Oh please," Frelsa couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd heard her fair share of incredulous tales that Shepherd and Drukjl contrived in their spare time but this one topped them all.

"I'm serious! Hear me out. You know the rumours that say he charmed an Elf princess years ago?"

"Rumours," Frelsa reminded him.

"What if they're more than rumours? What kind of man would be able to charm an elf?"

"A Rider. The _only_ Rider."

"Granted, but this was the princess. And you know that Rider, who was she? Oh yes, that woman and her yellow dragon, Ysoldine? The ones that made a scene when they left the island? Remember how she professed her undying love to Eragon? She had requested for private lessons and attended them religiously for two years."

"So? One crazy woman."

"Make that two. I heard from one of the old hands that back about twenty years there was another Rider. Her name was Wildine or Windine or something along those lines. She did the same thing as Ysoldine. Sang Eragon a poem of their eternal love for him. Four years private lessons."

"Seriously, Shepherd?" Frelsa didn't know whether to be angry or laugh. "Eragon's has privately tutored hundreds of students. Two of them doesn't make it a majority."

"But you can't deny that-"

"Ebrithil's done amazing things. He toppled the king, brought peace to the known world ad re-established the Riders Corps. Some will be invariably attracted to the power behind a man who could do that, and in turn to the man himself. In fact I'm amazed there's only been two cases!"

Shepherd was unconvinced. "Say what you want, I'm just saying, be careful around him."

* * *

Hi! This is BOL here, and this is my first story so I hope I haven't failed... that bad. Anyways, due to some confusion by a reader who asked for a reference to imagine Red's appearance, think of a red skinned baby T-Rex with a rounder head and thick red stone plates as armor. That's the most I can simplify it.


	2. Sorrow at a Party

"Concentrate! The weapon is not a weapon, it is an extension of your arm!"

Eragon sidestepped a hack from Drukjl, parried a blow from Shepherd and leaned back against a slash from Frelsa. Duelling three Riders at the same time, even young ones such as them, was a feat many deem impossible.

Eragon raised his blue blade against the blade of Drukjl's axe, an enchanted, unbreakable mahogany handle fitted to a copper coloured axe blade of brightsteel, so that the axe hooked over his sword. He spoke again. "You have strength in you, Drukjl. Use it!"

He stepped back and feinted in one direction before striking at a weak spot in Shepherd's armour with a blow to the ribcage with the flat of Brisingr. He stabbed again but Shepherd hopped back and parried the blade.

"Ha! You are learning, good! Don't stop, parry and strike! Parry, strike!"

This Eragon seemed a completely different person to the one who taught of fairths and wanted only to lay against Saphira and close his eyes. Saphira was currently on the other side of the island, teaching their dragons of how to properly utilise thermals and where to strike when attacking another dragon. Frelsa was faintly aware of the information being passed from Kalla to her.

She gripped her blade, a long, green, slightly curved one sided blade which tapered ever so slightly, Delswoir, elegance in the Ancient Language. Eragon spun and slashed across Frelsa's face. Taken by surprise, she raised the flat of her blade to deflect it but the blow was too strong and the weapon was knocked aside.

"Do not block the attacks of a stronger opponent. Dodge them! Lean back, sidestep. Be a reed and bend in the winds."

Eragon stabbed again, and Frelsa followed his instruction and quickly stepped to the left. He smiled and raised his blade to parry another strike from Drukjl. She didn't know the names of Drukjl's bronze coloured axe or Shepherd's steel coloured sword. It was something of a tradition in the new Rider's Corp to keep the name of their weapon a secret.

She swung Delswoir in an overhand strike which Eragon casually leaned back to dodge. It was then Shepherd and Drukjl struck simultaneously, the Urgal swinging at Eragon's bare head while the human swung at his legs. Their master raised his sword and blocked the axe swing before raising one leg, allowing Shepherd's grey sword to pass under it, and before it touched the second, stamped down on the blade with such force that it was yanked straight from its owner's hands.

When Ebrithil finally stopped the sparring session, Frelsa suspected it was more for them then for himself. His silk tunic didn't have a bead of sweat on it nor a speck of dirt. He looked as if they had not just sparred for an hour. Shepherd nursed his bruised knuckles while Drukjl inspected his axe. Urgals and dwarves had requested to break the norm of only swords for weapons in the eighth year since their admittance into the fold. When the request was granted, the variety of their weapons blossomed. Axes, hammers, clubs, even crossbows with brightsteel bolts that magically reappeared in their quiver. This was all made possible by a collection of brightsteel laden meteors said to have crashed in the North side of the island, the side of the Wild ones. The weapons were made by the dwarf Hothgeir, a dwarf whom Kalla seemed to favour. He had been taught by Rhunön herself and now made the Rider's strange, assorted weapons.

They all sat there on the sparring field, bruised and battered from whacks by the flat of Brisingr. Eragon stood before them. "It matters how you were taught, but you must make a style for yourself that suits yourself. If you are strong, you must learn to hit hard and block well against faster opponents. If you have technique, adapt it to your opponent. You would not raise a shield against a giant or a weighted hammer to slay a fast rabbit. And if you are the rabbit, learn to be quick and nimble. The enemy cannot kill you if their weapon cannot touch you. Furthermore, I must-"

Eragon paused. He stared at a point somewhere behind them. Shepherd asked, "Ebrithil, is something the matter?"

"Yes, the matter is that I will never get used to a Kull charging at me."

Frelsa turned around. There was a nine foot tall Kull sprinting right at them, disrupting lessons he cut through and barrelling past duellers. Frelsa gripped Delswoir's handle. She knew she shouldn't be fearful of Urgals, she was Drukjl's second closet human friend after all, but she'd heard enough tales of their deeds on the mainland.

The Kull dug in his heels and slid to a stop before them, chest heaving. He was going incredibly fast, even for a Kull of his physique. His entire body was stretched with sinewy muscles and his magnificent horns curled several times over.

"Nar Firesword!"

"Ah, Durlek. What brings you here? Where is your dragon? And what news?"

"He hunts on the far side of the island. A ship has arrived and I was told to report to you."

"The usual? Scholars?"

The new Riders had less strict security measures than the last, their island could actually be reached through ship, granted it had to be made at the right time of year, under the right moon and with good omens from soothsayers. All passengers had to swear oaths of secrecy and passages to their island were granted only to the extremely learned, extremely skilled in crafts taught or just elves.

"Yes, Nar Firesword. But there was, something else."

Eragon was intrigued. They usually didn't get many special shipments from the mainland. "What was it?"

"A Rider and her dragon!"

Frelsa found this strange. Riders and their dragons would usually return from quests on the mainland through flight.

"Who were they?" Eragon asked. From his expression Frelsa could tell he thought he had gotten his hopes up for nothing.

"A green dragon and an elf."

"What?"

Eragon was stunned.

"Nar Firesword, she bore a crown."

He was running to the pier before the Kull finished.

Frelsa, Drukjl and Shepherd, as they had nothing else to do, decided to follow Eragon as fast they could, but still fell far behind him. Seeing the clouds of dust kicked up in his wake, it was as if the Rider was possessed by some strange demonic frenzy.

_Frelsa!_

She was taken aback by the unexpected call from Kalla. _What is it?_

_ Did something happen? To Eragon? Ebrithil's going crazy, she's flying fast back to Festa eom Líf, said something about a pier?_

_ Eragon's running to the pier too! Something about the ferry, a crowned elf Rider with a green dragon._

_ Crowned elf, green dragon. Got it! Dýrgrir, Errol, faster!_

Drukjl soon pulled ahead of them. Judging by how he had already grown to seven feet tall by this age, seventeen, he was most definitely a Kull.

They raced across the sparring field, they'd passed the Men's Corner and were passing the Dwarves Corner. Most of the Riders and dragons present were making their way to the pier as well. News travels fast.

A great beating came from above, like giant folds of canvas flapping in the wind, Frelsa looked up and saw Saphira's huge shadow pass across the sky.

They were not the first to reach the pier, but there wasn't much of a crowd there. The ship, a huge custom ship designed for the utmost comfort with huge sails of Elfin design, stretching out to either side like the wings of a dragon. The Red Bull was written across the side in white paint. The three of them jostled for space and to get to the front to see their Ebrithil.

Another huge shadow passed across the sky. Frelsa looked up, expecting to see Saphira. But this was another dragon, a green one. And by the Gods was it huge. At least Rimgrun's size, maybe larger. Definitely larger. Big as Saphira? She came into view, another shadow, Saphira's definitely, the sunlight reflecting off hundreds of blue scales like innumerable mirrors. Frelsa was shocked to see that they were both around the same size. She'd never seen a dragon to equal Saphira.

She called out to Kalla. _Kalla, where are you? _

_ I'm in the sky, behind you. _

Frelsa looked behind for a moment, three shapes circled the pier like vultures, soon joined by innumerable other shadows of curious dragons.

_The Big Green? _Frelsa asked.

_ No idea. B-But you better get to the front of the crowd. T-There's s-something you should see._

Kalla was stuttering. She only stuttered when she as excited.

Frelsa pushed and slipped under an Urgal's arms and in between two scholars and squeezed through a group of elfin Riders and finally got to the front.

On the old wooden pier, Eragon stood there with the crowned elf, in plain view for all to see, locked in an unbreakable embrace with her.

Far above, the two dragons, green and blue, were locked in a deadly dance, executing complex aerial turns and twists that Frelsa could never imagine would work. They bellowed gouts of fire and roared in joy.

She heard Eragon conversing to the crowned elf in hushed tones, she could tell that it was in the Ancient Language but that was all.

Soon, Eragon released, almost reluctantly, and walked forth towards the crowd. His eyes shone with tears of joy. _Ebrithil is capable of tears?_

He looked at the radiant elf woman then back at the crowd. He spoke in a stentorian tone.

"The Queen of the Elves has graced us with her presence!"

This was greeted with gasps from many. Frelsa almost couldn't believe it. This elf before them was the Queen? All the way from Du Weldenvarden? But indeed, the elf there radiated a sense of stability, of confidence. She was tempered with years of hardship and mastered herself with a fiery will. Her fine silk robes and crown betrayed a power deep within.

"We must celebrate this joyous occasion! Prepare a feast! We shall dine tonight!"

Another of the senior Riders came forth and announced that all would play a part in the celebration. Each student was to be given a task to complete by their mentor.

When the crowd had at last cleared, Eragon still stood there speaking to the Queen. And judging by their expressions their vigour had not faded. Few were still there except the most passionate of elves and Frelsa and her class.

Drukjl dared to ask Eragon, "Dur Firesword. Our task to complete?"

The Queen looked at Eragon. "Dur? You've earned their respect."

"I would hope so," Eragon spoke giddily. Frelsa was stunned to see her cool master acting like this. "You three, go to Hothgeir. He should have a task for you. Now shall we tour the grounds of Darnan Esta, Arya Dröttning?"

"Yes, yes we shall."

As they walked away, Shepherd asked Drukjl excitedly, "What'd you make of that, Ram?"

Drukjl scratched the bit of stubble he had on his chin. "Remember the elf princess in stories old?"

"No way, the one he charmed?"

"Indeed."

Frelsa scoffed. She knew quite a bit about charms, she had read up on them in the process of trying to find one that would make Shepherd grow a beard. "Come on, if she was charmed she'd be swooning over Eragon, irresistible to his 'charisma'. In fact, she'd be so clingy he'd be dying to get away from her. Did you see the look on their faces? This was no charm."

They both stared at her like she was speaking Dwarvish. She sighed and continued walking. She called for Kalla to come down and get Dýrgrir and Errol to do so as well.

The six of them passed into the Dwarf Corner and looked for Hothgeir. Frelsa was the most familiar with this area so she led the way. She'd always wondered how the dwarves had managed to fit their population of eighty-two Riders and dragons and nearly as many dwarven artisans into this area where the houses were no taller than one story. There were rumours of huge underground caverns excavated below the Corner that were big enough for the dragons to fly in and had enough houses for a thousand dwarves.

Most of the houses here, many were more of gigantic huts actually, were made of bricks, some of metal. They passed a door and saw a single dwarf hold a strip of metal in a forge as a large dragon breathed fire on it. They passed another door and saw another smith holding a bar of metal on an anvil as a dragon bent it into strange shapes.

The buildings were arranged like polka dots on a huge quilt, none coming within a five metres of the other.

_Okay… straight, a left, right till you hit the left mountain arm then straight._

They came upon Hothgeir's forge. It was actually Hothgeir's home, he slept in the same room as his forge. He was given a chance to live in one of the larger, more luxurious homes as the brightsteel weapon smith but he declined. Apparently he thought that sleeping next to his forge improved his forging skills, though they were already at their peak.

He was currently forging some strange sort of metal bow with a million tiny sights on it, some with glass pieces inside that would magnify or reduce the size of the target in your sights. He carefully smelted on one hinged sight, buffing the smelt line till it was non-existent, then smelted on another. After a moment, he seemed to notice he had visitors and turned to them.

"High ho! Vorlvazk my friends!" The Dwarf exclaimed, using the dwarf greeting for close friends as he wiped his bare hands on his apron. He was slightly taller than the average dwarf and incredibly stout. His strong arms were branded by countless different burn marks and his large hands hid a nimbleness which could not be matched. He knew every Rider by name and had learnt of their fighting style and mannerisms before forging them an unbreakable weapon.

"So, what brings you to mine forge and hearth?" He absentmindedly swatted at a patch of his wild brown beard that had caught fire.

_Master Eragon said you've work for us, _Kalla stated enthusiastically.

"He did? Well, sorry to say, I've no work for you mine hands cannot handle. But while you're here, I'd like you to bring this to Eragon for me."

Hothgeir searched through panels laden with finished and fantastical products. He found his target, a ring with many tiny perfect gemstones arranged into a flower. He passed it to Frelsa.

"Pass it to Queen Arya for mine honour. Say that Ingeitum Hothgeir pays homage to her. Mine seating as Rider's weapon smith is an honour that keeps me tied to my forge."

Shepherd looked at the ring. A solid gold band widened slightly at one section, and at that section gemstones were fitted into tiny alcoves on the widened section to resemble a lotus, each petal a different type of gem.

"Skilfully wrought Firebrand."

Hothgeir smiled at the title. "Don't go screaming that name about your Corner, Drukjl. Some of them might not take ah, kindly to it."

Drukjl bowed but Frelsa spied a smile on his lips.

"Remember, you are supposed to be working. Don't let anyone think otherwise, stick with the working crowd. And if you're not, then just avoid the elves. They won't take too kindly to you slacking off on a celebration for their Queen."

When they left, Kalla a little dejected that Hothgeir didn't need help around the forge, Frelsa asked Drukjl about the title.

"Do you know the name Razhid?" Drukjl asked in his gravelly tones.

A shake from Frelsa.

"He challenged a dwarf to a wrestling competition."

Frelsa remembered the Urgal gang leader from yesterday.

"Well, he could not bear to lose the fight, so like a Drajl he broke the rules of the game and called his tjirel, friends as you say, to aid him. Hothgeir saw this and grabbed Razhid by the skin of his neck like a cub and branded his fur."

"Branded!" Frelsa asked in amazement. She'd never known Hothgeir to do such a thing.

"Bah, it was a small brand, just a square patch on his shoulder. Razhid came back in shock. Made a big drajdal over nothing."

As they walked out onto the sparring field, Shepherd asked, "Wonder where Ebrithil went?"

_We should try the Elf Corner,_ Dýrgrir suggested. It was strange for him to even speak when it wasn't needed or when it wasn't an insult directed at Errol or Shepherd.

But she thought over it and realised it was the most logical decision. "Dýrgrir's right. Let's go."

She knew they wouldn't have the stomach to enter but they still had to believe they were doing something. They crossed the sparring field, a buzz of commotion with everyone setting up fine tables and padded chairs for the feast that would commence in a few hours. The chefs in each corner were probably doing their best to whip up their fantastical dishes in the time limit.

Kalla was nearly stepped on by a big beige dragon and Frelsa was almost knocked over by an Urgal barrelling past that she would've fallen if she hadn't grabbed onto one of Kalla's back spikes. When they reached the Elf Corner, it was just as mysterious as Frelsa had thought it would be, in fact more so.

Ghostly lanterns, like will-o-the-wisps or spirits floated deep within the forest, and every now and then a mournful song of time lost by flute or joyous voices singing in clear crystal cool voices reached their ears. Every now and then a light would be blocked by the silhouette of a passing elf.

"So-o-o-o… we going in?" Frelsa asked.

"Ladies first," Shepherd said as he bowed to her, gesturing towards the archway of trees.

_Cowards first, it should be,_ Kalla shot at him.

_Yes, go on right ahead Errol. Your Rider should follow close behind, _Dýrgrir growled as he gave a sharp fanged grin.

_Oh ha ha. Don't remember you saying that when I trashed you over the field._

"I've no wish to say this," Drukjl said, the way he gave an almost comical sigh showed that he had every wish to say this, "but Dýrgrir is right."

As they bickered, Frelsa saw something down the forest path leading into the Elf Corner. She asked her companions to kindly 'shut up' and gazed into the forest.

"Everyone hide! Someone's coming!"

They all scrambled for a hiding place. Shepherd and Errol sprang to a cluster of trees on the left while Dýrgrir and Drukjl slid to the right. Seeing no other option, Frelsa climbed onto Kalla's back and she gave a short burst of energy, just enough to reach the branches up above.

With the strong branches supporting her and Kalla's weight, Frelsa shifted till she felt slightly more comfortable then looked through a gap in a bough of leaves. She say the Queen, what was her name? Arya Dröttning? Yes. She walked hand in hand with Eragon, exiting the Elf Corner. She'd never seen anyone go into the Elf Corner, or come out.

She could hear their voices as they carried up to the treetops, and felt slightly bad for unintentionally eavesdropping.

"This place is beautiful, Eragon. Reminds me of Du Weldenvarden."

"Yes, though I could only hope to ever capture a shadow of the beautiful city."

They stopped at the archway at the end of the Corner.

"You seem troubled, Arya."

On first name terms with the Queen. Definitely got a past with her.

"Tell me, what troubles your heart."

When the Queen next spoke, her confident voice was tinged with anxiety.

"Back in Du Weldenvarden, Fírnen felt something stir here. We lost contact with the island for a month and I… I just had to know you were safe."

Eragon paused for a moment. He seemed to grip her hands tighter.

"I am touched by your concern, truly. And I know what you will say next. And I must…must say no."

"Eragon…"

"I cannot leave this island." Eragon sounded forlorn, as if this wasn't a choice he could make, it was written in fate. "My duties here bind me."

"I sense more than your duties bind you here."

Eragon up till then had found great interest in looking at his shoes, and when he finally stared into Arya's eyes Frelsa could see from her perch the loss and sadness in them.

"There _is_ something else. But we shall not sully our minds with these dark thoughts. We should enjoy the time we have, and wish for more only when it is over. Come, follow me."

Only when she was sure that Eragon was gone did she even dare to speak mentally to Kalla. _What do you make of that?_

_ There's something on this island. Something Big Green could sense in Du Weldenvarden, and if we're very, very, very lucky, it's something dangerous._

_ If we're not?_

_ We'd all be dead._

* * *

"I raise mine glass, to ERAGON!"

A muscled dwarf had planted on foot on his table and another on his chair. He held his 'glass' high, ale sloshing out from inside the tankard.

"Argh, screw you shorty, I raise _my_ glass, to QUEEN ARYA!" a man bellowed as he adopted the same pose.

It was one of the greatest celebrations Frelsa had seen. Long tables had been set up, overflowing with drink and food. Dwarves, men, Urgals and Elves laughed and ate and drunk and sang. Music filled the air and enchanted lanterns floated lazily across the starry sky.

Another, obviously more intoxicated, dwarf adopted the pose and thundered, "I raise mine glass, to- BARZUL!"

The Dwarf had taken a head dive straight off the table. Normally it would be unacceptable to speak like that before the Queen of the Elves but as the night wore on formalities were discarded. His brethren laughed and slammed their tankards on the table.

Urgals were even wilder, a Kull drunk on their harsh beer had challenged a dragon, whom he seemed to think was another Kull, to a head butting match. They roared at each other and whatever pleasantries they had in the presence of other races were gone.

The elves did not drink much besides wine and their strange faelnirv. They produced lutes, flutes and harps and drums and strummed up a melody for their Queen. They sang of her deeds past and feats great.

Eragon had requested his students and past students join him at his table. But besides Drukjl and Shepherd, Frelsa knew none of the other Riders present except those recognised in tales of valor. There was Bandalor, the Dwarf hero who alongside his dragon Knurlkorda had been consumed by a giant Nïdhwal and escaped by cutting and biting through the Nïdhwal and swimming to the surface. Then there was Dran, the man who'd fought the skeletal dragon and Rider conjured up by a necromancer. The skeletons had all the power they possessed in life without the constraints of flesh. But Dran and his dragon had prevailed, splintering bones and destroying the necromancer.

Frelsa realised that Eragon must be very old to have mentored these legends. She glanced at him and realised that the Queen sitting next to him at the head of the table was behaving rather recklessly. She looked at the elf and realised by the sluggish way she moved and how reckless she seemed, regularly laughing with fey, that the great Queen of Elves was drunk. She laughed again and her voice was like the sweet ring of a bell. Frelsa noticed an elegant flask in her hand that probably contained faelnirv of some kind.

Next to her Shepherd burst out laughing at some outrageous joke Dran made about a cow and her adopted goat son. She looked at him in incredulity and at the tankard in his hand. "How much did you drink?"

He swayed as he stared at her. Smiling he replied, "Just a sip… maybe two."

All their dragons sat behind their seats, and even with every single dragon and Rider assembled on the sparring field there was still space to dance.

Kalla craned her neck so it was over Frelsa's shoulder. _If you're not going to drink your mead let me try some._

_ You! Are you sure mead is good for dragons?_

_ Saphira says so._

Frelsa looked over at Saphira, surrounded by four empty casks of ale and rolling around on her back like she was a dog. She'd never imagined a giant like her reduced to this, but she'd pay good money to see Kalla do it.

_Here, _she said as she handed her tankard to Kalla, who gripped the top of the tankard with her teeth and bent her head back to swallow the rest of it.

She looked over at Saphira and saw the Big Green, Fírnen, trying to look disdainful as he stared down at Saphira, still acting like a little puppy dog. She heard his voice, deeper than even Dýrgrir's but more like a melody than a bucket of gravel.

_Saphira… you're not a dog… I think…_

She then noticed the empty casks next to him.

Frelsa didn't understand why everyone enjoyed being reduced to rambling children. Then she heard a clink on the ground next to her. Bandalor had toppled over his chair and a flask rolled out of his hands. The flask was made of silver and there were runes inscribed on it in the Ancient Language. She picked up the cool flask and inspected the runes: Faelnirv.

She glanced behind her. Kalla was gone. Half the dragons weren't behind their Riders.

_If the Elves love it then how bad could it be?_ She thought as she pulled the cork out of the flask and took a swig and nearly gagged on it. The drink burned her throat on its way down but once it fell to her stomach a peculiar sensation of heat began to spread up throughout your body and to through her limbs to the tips of her fingers. She realised how much stress she had been under since she came to the island. Training every day, magic, mental, sparring, then the rules. So many rules that you didn't know whether they were made to help or kill you. She needed something to help her put all that behind her. And that something was in her hand.

Frelsa took another drink, and the same warm sensation spread out through her body. Her eyes felt…fuzzy? She saw Kalla trying to roll one of Saphira's unopened caskets of mead away. Kalla, that blasted, beautiful dragon. She'd have to kill a great beast or defeat some powerful fiend someday to be a Rider of any standing, but she had Kalla now, and that was all that mattered. Maybe the faelnirv did too…

Saphira had just noticed that one of her caskets was missing. Bandalor snored away peacefully and Shepherd was arm wrestling Drukjl, at a disadvantage due to all the strong Urgal brew he'd been drinking. An Elven Rider began to proclaim loudly of the time he'd slayed fifty seven Nïdhwal alongside his dragon while he hung onto her with one arm gripping her tail and the other wielding his sword.

Frelsa downed the rest of the faelnirv in one go. What was going to happen to her and Kalla? All the Riders? What was this thing Eragon and Arya spoke of? Some sober part of her mind asked these questions. Why bother? Answered the not-so-sober part. She remembered leaving her chair and seeing Saphira begging Fírnen, still like a dog, sitting on her hind legs and with forearms folded, for the cask he didn't steal, but he was still negotiating a deal anyway. Kalla had smashed a hole in the side of the cask and lapped up the mead.

She remembered the songs pouring through her soul, taking shape as beautiful far away landscapes and quiet forest paths. Then the dwarf songs materialised in her addled mind as battles of valour on the fields of war and huge gem filled caverns. The familiar sounds of men conjured visions of glory and victory, bravery and loyalty to their brothers while the Urgals' tribal tones contrived a setting of great beasts slain and herculean feats of personal strength.

Herculean. Hurrrrcuuuuleeeeaaaauuuuun. What kind of word was that? Where did it come from? Silly humans. Making up words.

Frelsa remembered dancing with Shepherd, then with a young elf, then a young man, then a wizened old man with a face of wrinkles. She didn't get the last part. She remembered seeing a dwarf steal a drum from an elf and start banging the drum dementedly as the elf chased him. An intoxicated Kalla offering her the rest of the smashed open casket of mead. Presenting Hothgeir's ring to Arya who slipped it onto her index finger and bore it proudly.

At one point Dýrgrir tried to sing a poem to Queen Arya, but had seemingly forgotten how to communicate with his mind. The result was a humorous series of grunts, growls and even a squawk. She heard a few thoughts from Errol wondering how a dwarf would taste like and Kalla formulating a plan to steal another casket of mead from Saphira, who now lay on her side and hugged the casks possessively close. Eragon took Arya's hand and led her onto the grass for a dance.

Before she blacked out she remembered laughter, muted speeches, toasts to honour brethren, and a drinking contest with an Urgal.

* * *

When she came to it was in the wee hours of morning, the Sun's first fingers had not grasped the edge of the horizon. Many lay unconscious or asleep across and on tables, and many more on the grass. She got up and held one hand to her head. Each step she took seemed to jar her brain a bit out of place, sending it flying around her skull. She felt as if her brain were flying faster and faster and weakening the bones in her skull.

Frelsa stopped at one point and pounded her head against a table, realising why she didn't drink. She wondered if there was a spell to cure this torture. She reached for the kite in her mind, now swinging in lazy circles, and grasped it, spitting out the words, "Waíse heill!" Nooothing happened! She got up and started walking in no particular direction, tripping over a sleeping Errol who growled softly.

She stepped over any bodies she came across, feeling sorry for the torture they'd endure when they woke up.

_Wait… is that vomit coming up I feel? _After a couple of staged retches to goad it out she assumed that it wasn't.

She walked a bit more, and saw Saphira and Big Green lying as close as possible to each other, Big Green laying his neck across Saphira's. She looked at their spikes and realised that the pounding in her head was as if someone was trying to force one of those spikes through her skull.

She walked a bit further and walked into a huge oak. She regretted it soon after as the pounding redoubled and her world seemed to spin. Frelsa just lay down under the cover of a bush and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the pain. Somewhere, someone retched and another groaned.

"That was an… interesting celebration."

At first Frelsa thought she'd said it until another voice spoke.

"You should see the ones they make me attend on the mainland."

A laugh that seemed to echo in her mind. The first voice, that was Master Eragon. Then the second was almost definitely Arya.

"How do you survive back there?"

"It gets bleak sometimes, but when I am forced to attend celebrations at the capitol I find some pleasure in watching those suffering from the night's festivities and without knowledge of healing we know."

She'd kill for the words to a healing spell to cure her pain.

"Eragon…"

Frelsa opened one eye and saw through a gap in the leaves, Eragon cupping the face of the Queen in one hand.

"You know I would if I could, but duty binds me here."

"Eragon, I do not like being kept in the dark on such things. If it was just duty you could leave another in charge for a day. Maybe two. But you have not so tell me what binds you here?" Her tone had grown more serious.

Silence.

"After all we've been through you cannot confide in me? Tell me the truth, Eragon."

He looked at her in a pained way. "I cannot."

"Must it come to this?"

"You do not understand, I have sworn in the Ancient Language never to reveal this secret until another who has not sworn sees it for themselves. And it is a burden I would never wish to thrust onto another's shoulders, least of all the ones I love. You."

"You know I can handle the burden."

"But at what price? You have endured hardship but nothing like what consumes me from inside. But I can tell you that I did not chance upon this island."

An uncomfortable, awkward quietness ensued. Even the retching far away stopped.

"You do not trust me…"

"Yes I do, I do trust you. I do, but-"

Frelsa saw the Queen spin on her heels and walk off without another word. Eragon stood there, looking after her. For the second time ever, she saw a tear creep down his cheek. But this was no tear of joy.

She heard him mutter to himself, "So it has ended. What more will you take from me?"

Frelsa knew that the question wasn't aimed at Arya.

* * *

26-11-13

Hello to whoever may be reading. Didn't write as much as the last chapter because I tried to write the whole of chapter 2 in one day, but with luck, I'll probably have chapter 3 up in 24 hours. Btw. I updated chapter one recently, added some at the end. If you haven't seen it yet just check it out. God, I need sleep. Hopefully my sleep deprived state made describing the drunk scene a little better. See ya in chapter 3!


	3. What's behind the mask?

When they found her, she was still under the bush. She had managed to walk from the sparring field back to the Elf Corner and seemingly fell asleep under the bush. Light pervaded the dark sanctuaries of her closed eyes and she opened them to see… an ugly face.

She screamed, "God's above!" The Urgal standing over her chortled and turned behind him, calling, "Drukjl, I have found the human you search for!"

Drukjl and Shepherd soon came over, the latter supporting her as she got shakily to her feet. She was not sure she'd be comfortable with Drukjl holding her like that anyway.

"Hah! You've drunk well the past night!" Drukjl exclaimed, making 'drinky drinky' gestures with his hand cupped around an invisible tankard.

"Did I?"

"Sure did!" Shepherd stated. "Should've seen yourself. You got up on the table, and used a fork like a sword as you pointed at Grthilunz. You know, the Urgal you had a drinking competition with? Well, you pointed at him and you shouted: Come you fearsome beast! I shall show you why women are not allowed in drinking competitions, because we best all the men!"

The two of them bent over with laughter and Frelsa gave a weak smile.

"Heh, funny. I don't feel so good…" All the vomit she had failed to retch up the last night seemed to deem this an appropriate time to strike.

"Woah, not on my tunic. New silk."

"Okay, on your shoes then…"

"Hey!" Shepherd shouted as she and Drukjl laughed at their distressed friend's face.

"Uh, Drukjl, hold her for a while won't you?"

She feinted sweet innocence. "Oh, but I'd much prefer the dashing young gentleman to support me."

Eventually they split roads with Drukjl who returned to the Urgal Corner while Shepherd carried Frelsa back to the Grid. He heaved a sigh of relief when he finally dumped her on her bed.

She stared up at the ceiling of the second floor and saw Errol's grey head poke out of the skylight.

_Sweet dreams last night?_

"Oh definitely," she called back.

He gave a snort. _Easy for you to say, some idiot tripped over my neck last night. Aches like oblivion._

"Where's Kalla?" Frelsa asked no one in particular.

"Kalla? Oh, yeah, we asked for her help because she'd know where you were at once, but she wasn't in too good a mood when we found her. She drank eight casks last night! Eight! Well she was pretty snappy and left us to find you on our own while she went off to hunt."

Then she remembered. "About last night…"

"You want to confess how amazing my dance skills were?" Shepherd inquired.

"Urgh, no! Ebrithil and Queen Arya, where are they now?"

He raised one brown eyebrow. "She and Fírnen left this morning. Didn't hear the sad songs the elves played? Oh right, you were asleep."

Frelsa related the whole story of what she'd heard and seen that night. Shepherd listened attentively, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging agape. Especially at the part when she told of how betrayed Arya sounded when she thought Eragon didn't trust her. When she had finished, Shepherd took a moment to fully take in all in.

"Do you know what this means?" He asked slowly.

"No." Did Shepherd actually have real answers? Not just theories put together by him and Burkjl? Had he actually, Gods forbid, matured?

"Eragon's charms wore off!"

Seems not.

"It's incredible, charms aren't supposed to wear off till their user dies or stops them or- wait why are you looking at me like that."

"Because I have realised, just how incredibly…amazingly… stupid you are."

"Oh come on! Think about it, the charms have been in effect for nearly, when did the stories said he met her?"

"Well he found the island 70 years ago," she mumbled, humouring him.

"Yes, so that means the charms been in effect for more than 70 years. Eragon couldn't have been a master of spells back then, so he was bound to have left some loopholes in the charm."

"So what, seeing him again magically dispels the charm?" Frelsa asked sarcastically.

"Yes! Like those people who hit their head and lose their memory, then when they see something from their past their memories come rushing back! What if when she saw Eragon, she remembered the time before him, and the charm failed when she realised she didn't love him as much as she thought she did."

She was fed up with Shepherd. "How do you explain the end huh? He said: What more will you take from me?"

The passion left Shepherd's eyes and he slumped down into one of the padded study chairs, stumped. "I don't know, could be anything. Maybe he's gone crazy?"

"Hah! See, I win. Drop your theories Shepherd, they're never right."

Errol poked his head out from the skylight again._ Gotta admit it Shepherd, you are starting to sound like the crazy one here._

"You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Thank you, Errol. See Shepherd. There's something else at work here. Eragon said it 'consumes me from inside'. And then 'So it has ended'. What's killing him, what's ended?"

_This ending thing is obviously tied to Arya,_ came the mental voice resonating from outside.

_ Kalla? _

_ One and only. Open up the roof._

Shepherd placed his hand on a metal plate on the wall and sent out a small charge of magic. The plate vibrated for a moment before the roof silently folded in on itself.

'Dang, this Elven stuff runs smooth," Shepherd commented.

Kalla was hovering up above, her green scales in stark contrast to the blue sky. She swooped in and perched on one of the beams jutting from the walls before jumping down to the second floor and laying down so that her head poked out over the edge of the skylight opposite Errol.

Shepherd hurriedly raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Before you kill me for waking you up just now, I just want to say how incredibly sorry I am."

_Calm down, morsel. I've no taste for human. Too bony, and the clothes are a curse to pull out of your teeth. But I must say that your charm theory is absolutely stupid._

"Not you too!"

_By the way, I went looking for Master Saphira and she said there were no lessons today._

"So any ideas on this, Kalla?" Frelsa asked.

_None at all, but you should've seen Master Saphira. Saw her on the other side of the mountain. Tore up a few big oaks, roared a bit, shot some fire and then just lay down there and cried. You know how I said she told me there were no lessons? It was actually more like: LESSONS DON'T MATTER! LIFE DOSEN'T MATTER! NOT WITHOUT HIM!_

_ Wow. Any idea what caused it? _Errol asked as he scratched his neck.

_ Obviously Fírnen, they were mates it seems, long ago._

Frelsa wondered what it was that could push her and Eragon to sacrifice the loves of their lives, to be restricted to seeing them for one or two days a year, if they were lucky.

"Well something's serious going on, something killing Ebrithil. And it's our obligation as Riders to help those in need," Frelsa stated resolutely.

"How do you suppose we do that?"

"We ask him."

They had called out to Drukjl with their mind, calling him and and Dýrgrir to meet them at the side of the sparring field near the base of the mountain an hour before midnight.

When the time came, they left their quarters. The floating lanterns had already risen to their perches up and down the main road. As they made their way out of Men's Corner they passed a man riding high on the saddle of a beige dragon. The dragon was twice the size of Kalla. The rider wore a cuirass of black leather and a pale blade hung without a sheath at his side, his tanned skin shone like copper in the lantern light. He and his dragon paused next to Frelsa and he shot her a smile so blinding he should've given her a warning first.

"Greetings, Frelsa, Kalla."

"Greetings, Shahnz, Dayine," which Kalla echoed with her mind. "Beautiful evening."

Shahnz looked up as if to double check it was evening. "Yes, beautiful, as are you, Frelsa."

Kalla growled at him, seeming to forget that Dayine was twice her size.

"Wo-o-oh. Looks like we got a fighter here. Well, I get the message. See you around, girls."

He shot her another blinding smile before he and Dayine continued on their way. She scowled and Kalla growled again once they were a distance away.

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, to which Frelsa replied, "Don't ask."

Errol snarled at Shahnz's back._ I pity Dayine._

Shahnz was something of a controversy, spending more time training to look fit instead of being fit, and wooing maidens. He took regular rides down Men's Corner main road on Dayine, always silent, seemingly wanting to advertise his body. No one knew why Dayine was silent he just was. Frelsa had been on the receiving end of several of Shahnz's flirting attempts, though he was always sorely disappointed. He never seemed to target her when she was alone, just when she had company just to show he could.

As they walked she could see Shepherd stifling his laughter. "So…that happen often?"

Frelsa grimaced. "Shut up."

"Hah!"

When they finally reached the meeting point Drukjl was already there, sitting against a lying down Dýrgrir. He scowled. "What delayed you?"

Shepherd was still stifling his laughter. "Well, get this, Ram, you know Frelsa? The Frelsa we've known for so long? She's actually attracted attention, of the…" *ahem "…male kind."

Drukjl raised one shaggy brow so high it seemed it would fly off his forehead. Even Dýrgrir bared his teeth and gave one of those strange dragon laughs. Kalla saved her Rider from embarrassment. _Well, so where's Master Eragon and Master Saphira?_

Drukjl's brow ratcheted down. "No one knows. Whole of the Urgralgra Otrag," gesturing to the Urgal Corner, "have not seen scale nor skin of Dur Firesword and Dur Flametongue."

"So why are we here?" Frelsa asked impatiently.

"Ahhh, I chose this spot for a reason, you know?" Shepherd told her.

"You do things for a reason?" she asked in amazement.

"Of course, have I ever done any different?" Shepherd puffed out his chest and swept a few strands of loose brown hair back in a gesture to make himself look heroic. Frelsa laughed. Hard.

"Anyways, you know how no one knows where Eragon and Saphira sleep?"

They all nodded.

"Well, I saw how the old hands make their homes in the caves along the mountain arms when their dragons get too big, so I thought maybe Eragon and Saphira do something similar. But they wouldn't stay in any one area that would show that they are favouring the race there over others."

_What is this? Shepherd, thinking rationally?_ Kalla asked with mock incredulity.

_Amazing isn't it? _Errol remarked.

_Indeed… _Dýrgrir mused.

Shepherd ignored all of them. "Well, so where else could they live? Somewhere they were safe, could live in peace. Then Frelsa told me about last night, and I realised if he really had lost so much, he'd want somewhere quiet to brood. Mark of the depressed. Trust me. So where else, but up high?"

Frelsa looked up the mountain. It was impossibly tall, a dragon could fly around three quarters the way up but if they had a Rider the Rider would faint from the thin air soon past the halfway mark. And dotting the mountain side were innumerable large caves, any one of them could possibly be Eragon's and Saphira's home.

A crack of thunder reached her ears. She looked out to sea and saw a legion of dark clouds marching their way.

"How are we going to know which one?" Frelsa asked.

"Indeed, and when to enter? I doubt Dur Firesword would appreciate us entering his home uninvited."

"Yes, yes I thought of all these. There are more than a thousand caves, so which one? Then I realised that half an hour to midnight, Saphira leaves her cave with Eragon. It happened one night so I climbed to the roof to watch."

_Could've made less noise doing it, _Errol complained. _A dragon needs his sleep._

"They don't do much, just go to the pier and watch the Sea. They return at midnight. I found this strange, and happened to glance out the same night next week and saw Saphira leaving again. They do it without fail."

"Don't you find this behaviour a bit obsessive?" Frelsa asked.

"No, it's not. Anything to prove to you that my theories are true. And if we look up and watch for them, we'll see where exactly their cave is in say, 3…2…1… now."

They looked up. A huge patch of stars were blotted out and a few of Saphira's scales reflected moonlight back at them.

"Anyone see where their cave was?"

"Nope."

"Nay."

_I thought you were watching!_

_ Shut up, Errol._

_ Calm down, so no one saw?_

"Appears not," Frelsa said. _Typical_. "At least we have a feel where it is. How high up was that, Kalla?"

_I'd say, maybe halfway up? 4000 metres, maybe 4100._

"Okay so we search that area. Drukjl and Dýrgrir take the left face, Errol and Shepherd take the right. Kalla and I'll go straight up front."

They didn't really object to her plan, partly because they didn't have one themselves.

A flash of lightning appeared over the Sea and the boom of thunder quickly reached their ears. Drukjl looked up at the darker than dark sky. "We have less time to complete our task. The storm moves fast."

As her companions flew up, Frelsa realised she hadn't brought Kalla's saddle, again. She'd used it so little times she might as well throw the moulded leather saddle away. She swung one leg over Kalla's neck and settled in the hollow in her back.

_Come on, let's go!_

_ About time._

They flew up the side of the mountain at an almost vertical angle, Frelsa hanging on for dear life onto the ivory spike in front of her. She did not even dare to adjust her legs as they were chaffed and rubbed against the rough scales. She remembered the time she flew around the island on Kalla without a saddle. She could still feel the pain in her legs.

Another crack of thunder. They had to get this over quick. The wind began to pick up.

_Frelsa, the storm…_

_ We can make it!_ They couldn't afford not to, if they wanted to save Ebrithil before whatever condition he had got worse. She didn't bother wasting breath speaking here where air was thin.

The wind was getting stronger. Frelsa stared straight ahead and felt something strike her in the eye. She wiped it on her tunic's sleeve. Rain?

Kalla had been up till then flying in a perfectly straight line, but now she seemed to stray and waver slightly. More rain. Frelsa gripped the spike with one arm and raised the other to shield her eyes. The rain was pouring now, and Dýrgrir and Errol were invisible.

They heard a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning striking the mountain, followed a second after by a blood chilling roar of pain, then a shape fell past them so fast it was a blur. For a moment they heard a dragon's roar as it flashed past them.

_Drukjl!_ Frelsa called out with her mind. There was no response.

_Kalla, we have to turn back!_

_ No! Dýrgrir can make it. We can't turn back now!_

They still couldn't see nor hear Shepherd or Errol. Frelsa cast out with her mind, looking for them, but they weren't there.

Another flash of lightning and a crack of thunder. The wind was so loud she knew if she thought to Kalla she wouldn't hear. Kalla herself wasn't able to fly in anything resembling a line, just going in that general direction.

She tightened her grip on the ivory spike and realised how wet it was. She thought she heard Kalla saying something but she could barely hear the thoughts. Her long hair was whipping all around her face and she wondered whether she'd become bald. Her dragon jerked and Delswoir nearly slid out of its scabbard and into the night sky but Frelsa managed to grab the hilt and push it back in. She could not lose Delswoir.

Then the wind seemed to grow even stronger, and suddenly Kalla was blown to one side. Maybe a wing raised at the wrong angle. The wind caught the membrane and Kalla and Frelsa were spun to the left. She knew she couldn't hold on. Her hands easily slipped off the rain-slicked spike and she flew off Kalla's back. She screamed both mentally and physically and stretched out a hand trying to reach Kalla who had already disappeared in the pouring rain.

She tumbled through the air, trying to figure out which way was up so she could adopt the free falling posture she had been trained to use if she ever fell off Kalla. _How was she supposed to do it again?_ Asked one part of her brain. _Scream and die_, answered the other. Her limbs flailed uselessly through the air. Soon the ground would come rushing up like a wall of death and it would all end. She felt the air blowing through her fingers and rain pelting her face.

Then something large slammed into her back. Had she hit the mountain? Was she dead? No, Frelsa was still flying through empty air. Then something else slammed into her, two strong claws that grasped her shoulders and did not let her go. Her fall slowed down, and she looked to her shoulders. Barely visible through the rain, but the scales on the claws were most definitely green. She reached out with her mind and felt Kalla's familiar presence.

They flew up for a moment before Kalla made a sharp down turn and Frelsa saw a gaping black hole appear through the rain. She almost cried with joy, but if she did her tears would have been blown away.

Kalla would've hit the huge cave mouth smack in the centre, but a strong gust blew them to one side and her wing collided with the right side of the cave mouth. The impact to her side was powerful enough for them to be sent careening and spinning through the empty space within the cave. As they flew, just for a split second Frelsa saw it past before her eyes. A wing, mangled and bent at all the wrong angle, bones splintered and membrane torn all the way from the far edge to the bone frame.

When they landed Frelsa was thrown with such force she collided with the cave wall. She felt a sharp, mind numbing pain and glanced down and realised arms weren't supposed to bend back like that.

Her last sight before her vision dulled to shadows, was Kalla, lying on the floor grasping weakly with her foreclaws for her Rider.

* * *

When Frelsa regained consciousness, she felt a numbness in her left arm. She looked down and wished she hadn't. She felt the stinging of vomit in her throat but managed to keep it down. She looked over and saw Kalla, spread-eagled on the cave floor, her wings stretched out over the cool stone. The left wing was ok, perfectly fine, but the right…

"Oh Gods…"

The vomit fought its way back up and splattered against the stone floor. She tried to get her mind off the acrid stink in her nose by concentrating on the world outside.

On any other day, she would've seen the serene form of Festa eom Líf, the huge sparring field, the four Corners. Dragons soaring through the sky and riders duelling. Teachers instructing classes. Students wandering freely alongside dragons and laying down in the grass to relax and study. But not today. Today the rain pounded on the island, the droplets obscuring anything past the mouth of the cave. An impenetrable grey cover over her world. What happened to Drukjl and Dýrgrir? Falling at that speed was definitely not good for their health. And she hadn't even seen Errol or Shepherd after they left.

There was a faint flapping noise, barely audible over the pouring rain.

"Errol? Shepherd?" She called to the rain at the mouth of the cave.

The flapping grew louder, and something brushed against her mind. That was definitely not Shepherd. She lifted up her arms and cowered as a powerful presence bore down on her, immediately breaking down her barriers with what seemed like no effort at all. It sorted through her scattered thoughts at great speed, seeming to have found what it needed.

Frelsa backed up all the way to Kalla, breathing raggedly.

A shadow appeared in the rain, and a great creature burst forth like through a waterfall, rain flying from its body onto Frelsa and the incapacitated Kalla.

It was so large that with wings stretched it spanned the entire width of the giant cave. It was a beast of shadow, indiscernible in the dark. A smaller shadow detached itself from atop the great mass and dropped to the ground, boots clacking against stone.

Frelsa shakily drew Delswoir, her hand shaking so much that she wasn't sure the weapon would be much use. The shadow walked forth and raised one hand, muttering, "Garzla."

A mellow werelight grew in the shadow's hand and revealed him to be flesh and blood. Frelsa lowered her weapon as she stared into Eragon Shadeslayer's face.

"How did you find me?"

"I think the better question would be: How did you find my home?"

Eragon flicked his arm forward his werelight shot forth to attach itself to the roof and flaring to a great intensity, illuminating the entire cave. Or home. There was a huge bed made of animal hides, rags and cloths. The bed was so large that two Saphiras could squeeze within it. There was no bed for a human. A wardrobe was fixed to a wall and there was a shower station at the other side. The floor was marked with a thousand claw marks from where Saphira had landed and taken off so many times. It seemed that Kalla had flown true and delivered them to their target.

Saphira herself stood at the mouth of the cave, silent till then. _Answer, little one._

"I-I was out flying with Kalla when the storm started. It blew us to the mountain and Kalla saved us by flying into this cave," It was a feeble lie. Even she knew how unconvincing it sounded. "But that doesn't matter, her wing got hit on the way in, you need to help!"

Saphira growled. She obviously did not appreciate her home getting invaded. Eragon walked over to her and held her giant snout with one hand, seeming to have a conversation with Saphira. He ended with, "Yes, yes I agree."

He briskly made his way to Kalla's side. "You did not use any healing spells?"

"No, I didn't think the ones I know would work."

"Good, if you did you might've caused irreparable damage. Move over."

Frelsa tried, but her arm flopped to the side and the shattered bones collided with stone, causing her to cry out. Eragon glanced at her and his furrowed brow became more pronounced. He instructed her to keep her arm as still as possible and not move.

He stepped over Kalla's dying body and lay one palm over her crushed and mangled wing. Mumbling a simple, "Waíse heill." Amazingly, with the simplest of healing spells damage she had considered impossible to fix. The fragments of bone snapped back into place as if they were magnetised to each other and the delicate membrane seemed to reknit itself. All of this with two words? How powerful was he?

Kalla's chest heaved, then relaxed. Her breathing regulated and the snarl let her snout. Eragon stepped over the now fine dragon and crouched down next to Frelsa. "Uncover your arm."

She reluctantly moved her right arm so her shattered limb was bare. Eragon grimaced and held out his palm and mumbled, "Waíse heill." Frelsa turned away. She'd never gotten used to the healing of even tiny cuts.

For a moment all sensation in her arm was lost and she felt something under her skin moving and twisting. She risked a glance down just as the last bone found its place. Perfect. Not a single scar. Even that little one on the skin between her thumb and forefinger she never even knew how she had gotten. Nothing there. The skin felt soft and bouncy like a baby's.

Saphira gave a short leap, short leap to her that is, to Frelsa it was gigantic vault over the heads of her, Eragon and a sleeping Kalla.

Eragon sat on the edge of the giant bed. "Mind telling me why you're here?"

"I already told you I-"

He silenced her with a raised hand. "I've lived long enough to recognise clumsy lies. I'd prefer not to use a spell to force the truth from you."

Frelsa gave a sigh. Seeing no other choice, she told Eragon the truth. How she'd seen and heard his conversations with Arya and tried to find out his plight to help him. She omitted the part where she'd told Shepherd and Drukjl.

"So, when I found Drukjl and Dýrgrir clinging to life by a thread on an outcrop further down the mountain, it was a coincidence?"

"Ebrithil, they must have-"

"How about Errol? And Shepherd. They had crashed into some trees on the Wild side of the island. Errol's wing got torn off!"

_What?_ She sensed muddled emotions of concern and fear from Kalla.

"Ebrithil, how are they now?"

"Hah! How are they, fine of course! A simple matter to find the wing, got blown around onto the sparring field, then reattach it and heal. Simple matter. Gods, I am amazing."

When she looked up at Eragon, she was surprised to find him with a dirty glass bottle of ale in his hand and arms on his knees. That one bottle changed him, not a hero, not an unapproachable Rider of old legends. He was a different person, and not a better one. His shoulders were slumped, his tunic seemed stained with dirt and soaked with rain. His normally neat hair was matted to his skin.

"Master, I know you are not fine. I know you need help, I'm sure I could-"

"You want to help me?" His voice shocked her. It was the voice of one defeated, not one who led a Corp that defended the innocent.

He chuckled. "I wouldn't share this burden with the _Queen_ of Elves. And you expect me to share it with you?"

Saphira had lain her head on the bed and the water on her scales was starting to evaporate. Eragon had finished his first bottle and started on a second.

Frelsa didn't know an answer.

"I… I don't know."

Eragon simply said, "Neither do I."

"Wait… what? What are you talking about, Ebrithil?"

"Heh, I don't know. What are you talking about?" Eragon was well and truly inebriated.

"Why don't you use a spell to um... _restore_ your sobriety?"

Eragon threw the bottle to one side where it rolled in sad little circles. "What's the point? This, _this_ can relieve me of all my stress. Heading the Riders. Teaching. Putting on this mask for the public. _This_!" Eragon grew agitated, pointing with both hands at his face, matted with wet hair and fixed in a furious scowl. "_This_ is what lies behind that mask!"

Frelsa was scared. Ebrithil settled back into his sad position, head between his knees.

"Ebrithil… if you only let us help you, we could."

"How?" He sounded like a child. "I can't count on anyone close to me. Not anymore. They'll leave. Like Roran, Nasuada, Orik, now her! She was the one I thought I could count on to stay by me, and she's gone too. Just like they said she would."

"They?"

He smiled at her and tapped the side of the head with his index. "The voices in my head, girl. You wouldn't know."

She definitely wasn't liking this drunk Eragon.

She heard him mumbling something about another bottle. In their condition, everything seemed a shade darker. Even Saphira's and Kalla's radiant scales seemed dim and dark. Then the fit began. Eragon smashed his new bottle against the cave floor, the drink spreading out over the flat stone. He cried out and curled into a ball and seemed to want to tunnel through the stone with his head. Saphira roared, the sound echoing up and down the cave. She spread out her legs and shook her head furiously. Soon, they stopped convulsing and Eragon returned to his seat, more dilapidated than before, producing a new bottle of ale from within the piles of clothes forming the huge bed.

A memory came to her.

"Do you remember what you taught me, when you found me unconscious on the shores of the island?"

Eragon lay silent, swirling the last remainders of his new bottle around at the bottom of it.

"Frudhe wiol Thorna Iknol caan frudhe neo…" Frelsa recited.

"Hm?" There was a hint of recognition in Eragon's eyes.

_Fight for those who cannot fight_, she'd remembered the words that had once been branded into her mind but now lay dust laden in some hidden alcove of her brain.

"Frudhe… wiol… Thorna Iknol caan... frudhe neo…" Eragon repeated, struggling to wrap his tongue around the difficult words.

"…un Thorna Iknol wilean neo."

_…and those who will not._

"You taught us that rule. You taught us to fight. Not for ourselves, but for others."

He looked at her, with what seemed like pity in his eyes.

"Give up this fight girl. Against the one who ails me, there is no victory. I've given up this fight."

"Then I will fight for you!" She wasn't about to let her last chance of redeeming her master slip away.

He frowned. "You understand what you are getting into? A promise of death."

"How many will I save?"

"More than a few."

She looked Eragon in the eye. "Let's get started."

* * *

"My Queen…"

Arya turned and saw a manservant standing in her open door and hurriedly placed her crown on her head.

"I assumed you would have knocked."

"I apologise, my Queen, the door was open," the Elf spoke bowing low. "But your meal has been laden."

She turned back to her mirror, waving at the elf. "Ask them to bring my meal to my room. And remind them to knock."

"Yes, my Queen." The Elf said as he retreated out the door, still bowing and also closing the door at the same time.

Arya stared at the mirror as she removed her crown. More of a tiara really. She dipped her hands into the dish of petal scented water and wiped her face with the fragrant water.

She toyed with the ring one of Eragon's students had given to her. A girl with a green dragon just like Fírnen. She'd said it was a gift from Hothgeir. It reminded her of some of Rhunön's greatest works and those of the Dwarves.

Wiping the top with one slender thumb she inspected each individual, perfect gem, which formed a perfect petal, which overlapped to form the perfect flower. The perfect flower.

_"As are you…"_

She cast aside the memory. Just a stray thought about someone she didn't know anymore.

_You _do _know that what you're doing is irrational?_

Arya glanced up at the ceiling. Fírnen was somewhere on the deck, weathering out the storm. Normally, even in this weather, she'd be out there with him, rain soaking her fine clothes, all for the presence of her closet companion. She didn't answer Fírnen.

_He told you he has sworn in the Ancient Language not to reveal the secret. And he told you _that _in the Ancient Language._

There was no way he could have lied. _Yes, but you heard him. He couldn't tell me, but he _could_ show me. But he didn't. He doesn't trust me. He thinks I'm too weak._

_Arya, his judgement is clouded at best. Who would dare to name you as weak? And you saw how different he was. _

Indeed she saw. When he was out of the public, just with her, when he thought she couldn't see. His shoulders slumped and his head hung sullenly. His very mental presence seemed to fade slightly. Eragon was barely able to keep his facade of a confidant leader together.

_Something has been eating him. He has taken the brunt of it. Saphira is barely affected and only through their link._

Arya looked again in the mirror and realised how comforting the sound of rain against the windows sounded. She was silent for a long time.

_I don't know what ails him Fírnen, but I would gladly suffer it with him. _

A wave of affection from Fírnen that she had finally spoke. _He doesn't want you to suffer as he had. _

_I have suffered enough. I could handle the burden,_ she spat vehemently at Fírnen. She wasn't usually so brusque to him, but he his only response was to make a mental replication of the dragon's laughing.

_It is not 'I'. It is 'we'. Whatever storms come our way, we shall weather through them together._

The ship sailed over a large wave, causing the water to slosh out of the bowl and the mirror to tip to and fro.

_We must pray the ship weathers _this_ storm first_, she remarked.

Fírnen gave a laugh but suddenly stopped. She sensed him turning back towards the island.

_What is it, Fírnen?_

_It's… it's nothing. Just the storm. Just the-_

A knock on the door.

"My Queen? Your dinner."

* * *

27-11-13

So, that's chapter 3. I'm not sure how I did on the Arya part, but hopefully I did fine. I'm thinking of writing the next chapter of segments of the chapter from another character's point of view, either Shepherd or Drukjl. I'm not too sure how to write from their dragon's pov, I'll have to read up to check. Well, help me along on this journey and leave a review with suggestions or whose pov I should write from. It'd be greatly appreciated. Oh and btw, this chapter and the last have been shortened to 5000-6000 words so I could release them in under 24 hours. If you'd like a 9000 word chapter I'd have to extend the wait time to 36 hours at least.


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

Frelsa had been expecting something dramatic to happen. Maybe Eragon and Saphira would rise to their feet and confront the danger that ailed them. Or maybe Eragon would use his powers to transport them to some far away land to do battle with a mythical beast.

Eragon looked at her, then at the bottle in his hand. He placed the bottle on the ground. He put his hands on his knees and with difficulty rose to his feet. He swept back some of his wet hair and smoothed down his tunic. He looked at Frelsa, "Let's Ride."

And then his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he toppled backwards onto the huge bed.

"Ebrithil!" She rushed forward and bent over his body. Saphira snorted. _Leave him, child better to wait until he is sober and alert then go off when he is tired and drunk._

She looked at the behemoth, nearly invisible in the dimming light of the werelight, distinguishable only by her sparkling scales and twinkling eyes.

_Master, is it possible you could perhaps, shed some light on the situation?_ She asked timidly.

The dragon bared her teeth. _Speak not of it! I have had enough pain for a lifetime, I would not relish telling the story of how it came about. You'd be better off seeing it for yourself, or at least from Eragon._

Frelsa retired herself to Kalla's side. The dragon still slept peacefully. Staring out at the impenetrable wall of rain, she wondered how Shepherd had fared when Eragon found him.

* * *

Shepherd woke up in a tree. He had not been expecting that. He was also not expecting to have woken up hanging upside down. Water trickled down the branches and down his upside down body. His legs had an immense weight bearing down on them. He twisted over and looked up, and saw in the branches of the tree was Errol, upside down with his back facing his Rider and right wing spread out and pierced by many branches while the left was pressed close to his body, supported only by the strength of the tree's branches. Shepherd realised his legs were still strapped into the saddle.

It was too dark to see much else past a metre, and the rain didn't help. The storm still poured, but here the roar of the rain seemed muted by the leaves. Rain flowed down the leaves and dropped upon Shepherd. A boom of thunder reached his ears. He twisted up and tried to undo the straps on his legs securing him to the saddle. If the branches gave way under Errol's weight, and they would, Shepherd knew that it wouldn't be healthy for him if he was crushed between Errol and the wet ground.

_Errol? Mind waking up?_ No response. Looks like he would have to do this solo.

As he undid the first strap, a heavy drop of water struck him on the forehead. He growled and wiped it on his sleeve, then realised that water shouldn't be that dark or thick. It was too dark to see much, but he could see that it was a deep, dark colour. He then looked down and realised his whole tunic was caked in the stuff. He cursed to himself. _This is bad._

_Errol?_ He asked again, fearful, though he knew there wouldn't be an answer. Another drop of the viscous liquid hit him again, this time on the cheek. Shepherd begged whatever Gods were watching that their situation wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

A bolt of lightning flared above, illuminating their surroundings for a second. Shepherd saw why Errol hadn't answered. His left wing wasn't pressed close to his body, it wasn't there.

Where there had once been a magnificent, beautifully long wing, there was nothing but a bloody stump, flesh cut raggedly but straight through, splintered bones visible through the flesh. Blood still flowed down from the wound. Shepherd looked at the wound, and cried. He had never felt this helpless before. His dragon was dying before his eyes and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Waíse h-h-heill!" he stammered out. He didn't even have enough magic left in him to stem the blood flow. He had to try again. "Waíse heill!"

A tiny spark of magic, just enough to slow the down the bleeding slightly.

This tiny interaction seemed to stir Errol to consciousness. He didn't budge, just opened his eyes and looked upside down at his Rider hanging below him.

_Hey, Shepherd… _Errol spoke slowly and with difficulty.

_ Shit, Errol, shit, shit, shit…_

_ I think… I think my wing is gone…_

_ Oh you think?_

Errol laughed at his Rider's distress, before that small effort forced him back into unconsciousness and his head flopped aside uselessly.

Shepherd twisted up and tried again to heal the wound. "Waíse heill!"

He wasn't going to try and save himself by unstrapping his legs from the saddle and running like a coward. If Errol was going to die he knew he couldn't live without him.

"Waíse heill!"

Nothing.

The raining seemed to grow more intense. Shepherd snarled as he spat out the words again, "Waíse heill!"

As the storm raged on, he wondered what happened to Drukjl. They'd been riding close enough to see each other, competing to see who could reach their destination faster. Then lightning struck the mountain. They saw a pine far up topple forwards and roll down the wet and muddy mountain side. They saw how the pine slammed into a boulder, like a ramp, and bounced off the mountain side and up and towards them. They saw the huge tree fly through the air like in slow motion. How the trunk slammed into Dýrgrir and sent him and Drukjl falling like a stone. Errol had been faster, and almost escaped. Almost. The tree had struck the tip of Errol's left wing and in the furious winds, such a blow was enough to send them careening away.

"Waíse heill!"

Another flash of lightning. Shepherd turned away, he had no wish to see the stump of Errol's wing. He didn't have any hope of replicating the whole wing with that single spell. The most he could hope to do was to prevent further blood loss.

"Waíse heill!"

He felt the link between him and Errol deteriorating. Errol's subconscious thoughts scattered, and his desire to continue living began to slip.

"Screw you, Errol! You're not dying on me, heal, you stupid lizard!"

Amazingly, the bleeding stopped. Shepherd had expected such a feat to have killed his exhausted body, but then he saw something else. The severed left wing, a deathly pale colour that sickened Shepherd, appeared out of the corner of his vision and was held in place next to the stump as the flesh began to join together. Had he done this?

Then he looked to the left and saw a great blue dragon with the wing in her teeth as another man, also upside down, held his palm over the sever and murmured, "Waíse heill."

Shepherd suddenly remembered that he was the one handing upside down, not them. He recognised them as Saphira and Eragon. So high were the trees and their perch that even at Saphira's great height, with Eragon standing up in the saddle, he could just barely reach Shepherd and Errol.

The skin of the wing and Errol's stump began to join together like a spider web, sections of it filling up. Through the gaps in the web Shepherd saw the bones replicating themselves and making a new joint for the wing. Flesh began to fill up the gap.

Soon the wing was good as new and Eragon gingerly folded it close to Errol's body, doing the same to the right wing. Eragon then attended to Shepherd, but seeing that he was awake, touched his forehead with his index and middle finger and whispered, "Slytha."

He was immediately overcome with the desire to sleep, even if it was hanging upside down from his saddle. Before his eyes closed and his conscious mind shut its doors, he saw Saphira extend her open mouth through the boughs of the tree and extract Errol, with Shepherd still hanging upside down from the saddle, with her teeth, gingerly holding the dragon with her mouth like a mother towards a new born hatchling.

Shepherd's last thought before sleep found him was that his back was gonna hurt from all this hanging.

* * *

Frelsa stared out into the night. She lay one hand on the side of Kalla's scaly head.

_We're in for an adventure, Kalla._ She didn't get an answer. She didn't need one.

Saphira raised her huge head and realised her students were still awake. _Sleep, little ones. We've a hard road tomorrow, if Eragon remembers tonight of course._

Frelsa gave a little laugh at Ebrithil's expense. Saphira had pulled Eragon's immobile body close to her warm scales and they slept peacefully. Frelsa leaned against Kalla's belly and held onto the hope that she'd dream a dream of the time before she had washed up on the island's shores. A dream of the past she didn't know.

She did not.

* * *

In her dream, she was in Angela's shop again, but the plants were gone. The animals were caged, and she saw the song birds tweeting sadly from behind metal bars.

Angela was bent over a large crate, packing into it a huge assortment of strange instruments, a crystal ball, a cup of knuckle bones and other strange items whose use escaped her. The Salamander, Red, had grown slightly larger and tiny little armour plates were beginning to grow on his powerful legs. Red serenely chewed on a sprig of a plant she recognised as fireweed, still with a crimson flower attached at the end, as a large, shaggy black cat lay on his armour plates atop Red's head.

The cat seemed to be aware of Frelsa's presence. He turned and looked straight at where she was. She hurriedly reminded herself, _It's just a dream… none of this is real…_

Angela noticed where the cat was looking at and turned around. She seemed annoyed more than anything. "Don't you know it's impolite to barge in on people without knocking?"

She pulled out a potatoe and fed it to Red.

"So, how's Kalla? Oh what am I saying, you're dreaming!" Frelsa for one didn't know how the two things were connected. Angela spoke as if visiting people in dreams was totally normal.

"I was actually trying to get Eragon with my spell but I've never been much of a magic user. Anyway, while you're here, I can read your fortune! Fortunate, isn't it? See what I did there?"

Frelsa knew she definitely did not want to get her fortune read. As Angela laughed at her own pun, Frelsa tried to walk out, but it was as if her limbs were not her own. They moved of their own accord, like she was trapped in someone else's body. Her body forced her towards the herbalist's table. Angela walked over to the table as well and pulled some strange, long, delicate bones from pocket on her dress.

"You know, I used to use dragon knuckles for fortune telling, but I um… lost them. Yes, and I found toad bones work quite well if used properly. Oh what am I saying? I meant frogs. Toads don't exist."

Angela pulled out a cage from inside a box, and spoke, "I've found dragon bones to be slightly unreliable, their prophecies are never the whole truth. One customer, Bandalor I think his name was. Well, the bones said that he and his dragon would have a great feast. They failed to say that this was a feast of Nïdhwal flesh, and he'd eat it from the inside of the Nïdhwal itself. Oh, these dragon bones are so troublesome."

Bandalor's plight had not seemed just troublesome when he spoke of it.

Before she began Angela smiled at Frelsa. "I don't usually operate like this but since I'm in a good mood, I'll give you this prophecy free of charge!"

Frelsa wasn't sure if the method the herbalist used was deemed as proper. Angela sprinkled some fragrant leaves over the bones and placed the hand holding the bones flat on the table. She released her huge pet lizard, the one the giant spider had chased. The lizard scurried over to the bones and swallowed four of the nine delicate instruments.

Angela nodded as if this was very informative.

The lizard hurried back into its cage. "I'll extract the bones from his faeces later."

She picked up the rest of the bones and shook them like dice before throwing onto the table. Most of the bones amazingly, did not break, except for one. Angela shook her head at the broken one.

"Now do you wish to be told your fortune?"

No.

"You have no choice! Isn't that wonderful?"

The herbalist studied the bones from all angles. "Hm, yes, yes. Very intriguing. Oh indeed? How wonderful!"

"My precious frog bones predict that in your near future, it says a deception will end in death… a happening to decide all fates, the breathe snuffed out from one noble and great."

How do you read all that from those bones? She didn't like the sound of this fortune.

"This is dire, very dire. These events may not all happen to you, but more likely affect those around you. I'd tread carefully."

Frelsa really wanted to leave. The black cat looking at her was unnerving her.

Her dream began falling apart, pieces of it crumbling to dark. Angela seemed to know what she saw and spoke in a somewhat lamentful tone, "Looks like our time is up, unfortunately. I hope you found your fortune… informative."

Before the scene changed to dark she saw Angela produce another potato and feed it to Red, saying in an uncustomary sinister tone, "Frelsa, you cannot let Eragon fail in his quest. It would mean the end of us all. Who's a good boy, Red? Who's a good boy? More potatoes for you!"

* * *

When she woke, Kalla was already arisen. She had not moved an inch, careful not to disturb her Rider's sleep.

_Kalla?_

_Oh no, I'm obviously a Lethrblaka come to eat your flesh and crush your bones. Who else could it be?_ Kalla's voice was giddy with happiness.

_You're in a bright mood today._

_Definitely am. Thought my flying days were over once I hit the cave mouth, but when I wake up, good as new. _She stretched out her right wing and gave it a few experimental flaps.

Frelsa got up off Kalla's side and allowed the dragon to stretch her legs, arching her back like a cat._There's something that happened last night that I have to tell you._

_If it's about that whole talk with Eragon, it's fine. I took the um, liberty, of looking through your memories. I must say, there was some _pretty_ embarrassing stuff in there._

_Kalla! _Frelsa looked at her dragon accusingly.

_No worries. We're dragon and Rider. We can share our secrets, can't we?_

_What happened to privacy?_

_'You'll have no privacy. Your mind must be open to your partner at all times'._ Kalla smugly quoted Eragon. _And what's this about Shepherd?_

_Where's Eragon and Saphira?_ Frelsa hurriedly asked.

_Saphira's still sleeping on her bed, behind us. Eragon is under her wing._

When Eragon did wake up, he moaned something about drinking and headaches. Frelsa heard an incantation spoken from beneath Saphira's wing and saw her master slip out under the blue membrane, perfectly fine. His hair had somehow rearranged itself and his tunic looked brand new. She did not want to know if he had changed and washed up in the shower station, in full view, just ten metres from her.

He looked confidant, Brisingr swinging from his side and chin held high, but she still could not get the sight of the dejected man sitting where he stood last night. He seemed surprised that she was there. "What are you doing here?"

Had he forgotten his drunken rant? "Ebrithil, you said we'd go to confront the threat that ails you?"

His frown deepened. "So it was not a dream?"

"No, it wasn't."

"And you heard me…" He made a general gesture of talking. She nodded.

"Yes, Ebrithil."

"It's true isn't it, Saphira?" She growled affirmatively. "The day has come to pass. I could finally be rid of this curse."

He spoke wistfully. Eragon snapped his neck back towards Frelsa. "Frelsa, Kalla. Come. We must away."

Frelsa was quite taken aback by the suddenness. "Aren't you going to tell us any information, Ebrithil? Nothing at all? Just like that?"

"Eragon, not Ebrithil. Not after you've seen me in the state I was in. And yes, we must leave as soon as possible. Before he senses our efforts and struggles to stop us."

"He?"

"You shall learn on the way. Come." With that Eragon saddled Saphira even as she jumped out the cave entrance.

* * *

_Don't lie to me, Fírnen!_

Arya paced the deck, sailors shying away from her as she conversed silently with her dragon, lying serenely on the wooden planks, already dry in the hot sunlight.

_I've told you, it was the storm._

_Then back in Ellesmera? Was that the storm too?_

She had never known Fírnen to keep any secrets from her, even the worst or most embarrassing. She felt angry, she felt frustrated, but most of all, she felt betrayed.

When an answer was not forthcoming Arya slumped to the deck and leaned against the railings. Fírnen bent low and gently nuzzled her leg.

_If it is what I fear it is, then we have no hope of survival._

Fírnen was not usually this melancholic. _You can tell me, Fírnen. Are we not Dragon and Rider? Are we not one?_

He stared at her with his huge, amber eyes. _We are. But there are some things that supersede such bonds, even the one we have. Things branded within us dragons._

Arya hung her head. _First Eragon, now you! What has happened to me? Have I failed as a queen and am now being punished?_

_ You have not failed. _Fírnen's answer was short and absolute, leaving no room for dispute.

_Then why, why must this happen to me?_

_ Because you are the Queen. You will suffer through more than most, but they will respect you for it. You will be admired for it._

She gave a smile a placed one hand on his snout and smiled at his endearing eyes.

_Oh, Fírnen, I-_

"My Queen!" a clear voice sounded out in the Ancient Language.

She looked up for the source of the call. Not on the deck, not there, not over there, but one of the steps leading up to the wheel was a lanky elf with a lute in hand. Handsome, even by elven standards. A few strands of black hair hung over his smiling face.

"Would you like to hear the new song I composed in your honour?"

Arya sighed. Another burden of being royalty. This great fool followed her everywhere she went. She had seen him at every celebration she'd attended, she'd seen him in the crowd the times she visited the new human king, she'd seen him following her and blowing melodies on his flute as she walked through the forest paths. And now he was here. She didn't even know he had boarded the ship. The first few times she'd left him alone for comic relief, to relieve the stress of her duties, but after a while he had become an annoyance. But she still couldn't punish him for so selfish a reason as annoying her. Unfortunately.

"Is that a yes, My Queen?"

"Go ahead, Ilian," she waved dismissively at him, humouring him.

His face became animated with joy. Ilian sprang to his feet and proceeded to sing a ballad of how great and beautiful and majestic and 'awe inspiring' their gentle queen was.

She didn't even know why he bothered. Was he seeking her favour? Companionship? Her hand in marriage? He never told her, just annoyed her with his songs.

As he strummed impossibly fast tunes on his lute, he sang in an amazing voice like a chorus of song birds. He sang an impressive tale of Arya, telling of her deeds and great accomplishments through the war and during her reign. Somehow he managed to rhyme all his words even though he sung in the Ancient Language. She'd been impressed the first, second, third time he had sung to her. By the fifteenth it was torture.

While he strummed, she smiled serenely as she talked to Fírnen, not paying Ilian any attention at all. By the end of four hours, she was surprised he still sang. Seeing how passionate he was, Arya decided to give him some satisfaction. "Bravo, Ilian. You have outdone yourself. The best song by far!"

He did not stop strumming, looking up at her confused. "I have not finished yet! I still have fifty-seven more verses!"

"I have heard enough of your beautiful ballad, I fear if listened much more I couldn't stop."

This pleased him. Ilian gave a small bow and opened up the entrance to the cabins below decks open for Arya.

She cursed. _How did he know I wanted to leave?_

_ Years of following you must have given him a great understanding of your mannerisms,_ Fírnen suggested humorously.

But instead of speaking out, Arya smiled at him as she walked down the steps.

Unfortunately, he followed her.

"My Queen, I was writing the one hundredth and eighteenth verse of my ballad when it occurred to me that despite the time we've spent together, we have not had a meal together yet."

_Yes, why not? _Fírnen asked sarcastically. _You've 'spent' so much time together after all._

"So, My Queen, I was hoping you could join me above decks tomorrow night to share supper with me by candle and moonlight."

_Very romantic, _Fírnen remarked between mental laughs.

Arya didn't really know why Ilian actually expected a yes after she found out about him stalking her for so long, but she wasn't sure she wanted to break his heart. "I'm not sure, Ilian. I have many duties to attend to and preperations to arrange for when I return to Ellesmera, but if I am free I shall join you."

Ilian's smile seemed too big for his long face. He bowed to her and as she walked away heard exclamations of exaltation from behind.

She heard Fírnen's thoughts from above. _So…_

_ Not. A. Word._

* * *

Eragon had cast a spell over himself and Frelsa, so that they and their dragons were camouflaged to all but each other. They circled the mountain to the side on the Wild side of the island. As they flew, Kalla spoke.

_ Frelsa, do you know what we have gotten ourselves in to?_

With a start she realised her answer. _I don't know. Gods, Kalla, what have I done? I've just _volunteered_ to fight what may be the only thing Ebrithil fears. Eragon! The man who turned the tide of a war and has the name Kingkiller!_

_ You bit off more than we could chew, Frelsa._

_ Thanks for reminding me._

Kalla glanced up at her Rider. _Long as we're together huh? I doubt anything would dare to touch Master Saphira._

_ What are you talking about Kalla? By the time they've gotten that close, she'd have eaten them up!_

When she asked Eragon if anyone would notice her absence, he replied that he had cast a spell that convinced all who knew her that she and Kalla had suffered a flight injury so severe that she would be under intensive healing for what could be several days. She felt it was a rather cruel joke to play on her friends.

The clearings where the veterans taught soon disappeared and were replaced by a huge, unbroken forest. She thought she spied a huge shadow of a dragon near a clump of trees but it immediately disappeared when she tried to focus on it. Saphira began to circle in large spirals, lazily nearing the ground. Kalla tried to replicate the blue dragon's flawless technique but soon opted to simply swoop down and pull up to land.

_Don't raise your wings at that high an angle, Kalla, or you might be cast into the air again, _Saphira chided as she landed with a soft thump.

_Yes, Ebrithil._

Eragon waved a hand and stated that his spell of concealment was dispelled. Saphira began to crawl through the forest, slipping easily between giant oaks.

As Kalla followed, Frelsa realised why this place was called the Wild side. There were no sounds of clashing swords or smell of parchment. The only sounds here were the cicadas' songs and the birds' love ballads.

Kalla seemed more at home here, crawling between huge tree trunks and leaping over streams and fallen logs, than she ever did back at the Corner. Suddenly she paused. Her head turned to the right.

_What is it, Kalla? We can't fall behind!_

_ Look…_

Frelsa followed Kalla's gaze. There, nearly hidden by a huge pine, a dragon. A tall, orange dragon just watching them.

_Do you think that might be Rimgrun?_ Kalla asked excitedly.

_I don't know… it might…_

The orange dragon flared his wings once and then turned and disappeared into the shadows.

_Wow… did you see how big he was! His wings… they must have been fifty metres tip to tip!_

She sighed. _Hurry up! Look how far ahead Saphira is!_

_Not far now, _Eragon said to Frelsa mentally.

They soon came to a wall of oaks, the tallest and thickest trees she had ever seen. The trunks were so wide that they must've been ten metres from side to side. They grew so close together that there was no space for the smallest creature to slip through. The ground was filled with fallen and rotting logs. There was no getting past this barrier.

Kalla hopped over a half rotten log and looked up the height of the wall, in awe of the trees' magnificent size. _How old are these trees, Master Saphira?_

_ If I'm correct, five weeks._

_ What?_

Saphira stood on her hind legs and fell forwards, supporting herself on the tree. Her claws gouged out the tree bark. She bared her teeth in a snarl and pulled backwards. The tree's flesh immediately began to splinter, the dark bark splitting open and revealing the soft, light wood beneath.

_ What are you doing!_ Kalla screamed.

_Don't trouble me, Kalla, this is hard enough as it is._

The tree seemed to be reluctant to bow to Saphira, putting up a fight as she struggled to topple it. The back roots were unearthed, an impossible net of soil laden tendrils. Saphira let go and shifted around to the front, placing the bottom of her claws on the back of the trunk and using her weight to push down on it. The tree gave way much more quickly.

As the trunk slammed into the ground the tremor that emanated from it shook Frelsa's bones in her flesh. Kalla looked at the tree in shock then at Saphira and Eragon. _How could you do that! That tree must've stood there for thousands of years!_

Saphira answered between pants as she tore down another tree, _I've told you, it has only… been five… weeks… since we came through here."_

"Eragon?" Frelsa asked expectantly.

He patted Saphira's side. "These trees are the product of a spell. An incantation put into effect ages past. Tis' a wall of wood, stretching all around the mountain. Impassable. Their branches are so thick and sharp that to try and go through them would be to court death. But to remove them, simply pull them down. A new tree will grow to the same size in five days, maybe less."

"What?" Another tree crashed down, crushing the rotten shells of other trees torn down long ago.

"Elf magic. Come, our destination is up ahead."

They slinked through the new gap between the trees, Kalla glancing at the fallen tree, and followed Saphira through the path her great body cut through the forest as she seemingly waded through the thick undergrowth.

The branches of the trees in either direction for a great distance were as Eragon described, thick and sharp. Barely any light filtered through to them, casting the forest here in a sinister light. Frelsa knew that if a dragon tried to fly through those branches their wings would be shredded. Her master had conjured a werelight and held it in one hand as a beacon for Kalla and her to follow.

Saphira simply walked in a straight line, stoic and silent, whereas Kalla chose this moment to display her nimbleness, leaping onto a fallen log, perching on a small boulder, tipping and tossing her Rider on her back.

_Walk straight, Kalla, or I'll- wo-o-o-a-h!_

That last part had been due to Kalla flying up to a low branch on a nearby tree. She snorted at Frelsa. _If you'd actually brought your saddle it wouldn't be this uncomfortable. _

_ Granted. Next time, we can go running through the woods and flying through the branches all we want, but for now, please try and go in a straight line._ Frelsa pleaded._ And on the ground._

Kalla shot her a sly grin. _Your wish is my command._

_ Wait, wha- GODS, KALLA! _

Her dragon had deemed it an appropriate time to perform an inverted spiralling corkscrew, towards the ground, upside down. She didn't even know Kalla could do that. Frelsa came this close to being a greasy smear on the path. But eventually Kalla decided not to torture her Rider any longer and follow Saphira at a leisurely pace.

Frelsa heard a crackling leaf and spun around in her seat to see a single squirrel picking a nut up off the ground. The darkness here had put her on edge. The most innocent noise became the signature of a deadly predator. There were no cicadas here, as if they knew something in this part of the forest was wrong.

She heard another rustle to her left. Frelsa turned her head and saw a pair of eyes staring back from the shadows. The eyes seemed to be unable to decide on a particular colour, settling on a certain section of the colour palette. The slit pupils followed her as she and Kalla made their way through the forest. Just before she lost sight of it she saw the eyes close. Seemingly gone, Frelsa returned her attention to keeping track of Eragon up ahead, only to see the eyes in the shadows within a bough of leaves overhead. Orange this time. They followed her and Eragon as they walked through the forest.

"Master, there are e-eyes in the shadows."

He sounded as if he were smiling. "Solembum, dear. A werecat. It's no wonder. He has a companion, who likes to be where things are happening."

"Would that companion's name be Angela?"

She saw him perk up in his saddle. "Might be."

"And is she strangely eccentric, a fortune teller, witty and the owner of a potato eating Salamander named Red?"

"Now that last one is new. She's got a salamander? Last I saw her she had an interest for frogs and had proved they were no such things as toads."

"Not really a 'wet' kind of salamander, more like an armoured red lizard which breathes fire and curls into a ball and rolls around."

She had neglected to tell Eragon the prophecy Angela had read for her in her dreams. She wasn't sure whether she had actually been spirited to Angela's shop, and if the scene had been her imagination or a vision of reality.

"Ah, I'd like to see him. I have seen few Salamanders of their ilk in my lifetime. So, how is- wait."

Saphira halted so suddenly that Kalla accidentally treaded on her tail. Saphira gave an outraged snort of fire as Kalla apologised meekly. Frelsa saw Eragon dismount Saphira and draw his sword. He gestured for her and her dragon to come forward.

Saphira moved to the side to allow space for them. The branches where they were seemed even thicker, allowing no light through at all. Eragon's werelight was the only illumination in the whole area. There, at the foot of the mountain, where the ground just began to slope up, was a portion of the ground that had seemed to cave in on itself, a giant hole, roughly circular and fifty metres in diameter in most directions. Large steps, swathed in dry leaves and big enough for Saphira to walk down stretched away deep underground. A cold draft blew out as Frelsa peered over the edge and into the hole. It was unnerving just to be near it.

At that moment, a soft howling noise, a barely audible whine, seemed to emanate from within the opening.

"Ebrithil?" She asked fearfully as she back away from the hole.

The howl, more of a demented cry now, grew steadily louder.

She back up until she bumped into Kalla. Frelsa looked to Eragon for support, but saw him gripping his sword with shaking hands so hard his knuckles turned white, taking a step back as he fixed his widened eyes on the opening. His whole body seemed to be quivering as the howl continued. Saphira was trying to stay still, eyes squeezed shut and claws digging into the dirt.

Frelsa shielded her ears and squeezed close her eyes, trying to shut out the unnerving wail, but her discomfort was nothing to her master's pain. Eragon cried out, his voice echoing for kilometres and dropped his sword onto the leafy ground next to him. Saphira roared and she seemed to dig a hole in the dirt with the crown of her head.

She really wished Drukjl and Shepherd were with her. Even if Shepherd was spouting some stupid nonsense.

When the wail stopped, Eragon was curled up in a foetal position, werelight hovering over his figure, dim. Saphira still kneaded the soil between her claws nervously.

Frelsa knelt next to Eragon. "Master?"

His eyes opened so fast she jerked back in surprise. He stared at her hollowly. "Has…it stopped?"

"Y-Yes."

Saphira stopped kneading the soil and shook her head to clear it. She craned her neck forward and allowed her Rider to use her scaled head as a support to stand up. Eragon stared at an indistinct point in the darkness within the opening, then reached for Brisingr. "We… we should go."

When he spoke, it seemed like he had lost all conviction to go on. Frelsa saw her master slipping and spoke to him, "Frudhe wiol Thorna Iknol caan frudhe neo, un Thorna Iknol wilean neo."

He glanced at her.

"Remember, Ebrithil! Don't let go!"

He stared at her eyes, then a light that was gone returned. "Eragon, not Ebrithil."

His werelight flared to its full power. Eragon reached down with a hand, one that Frelsa noticed shook slightly, and picked up Brisingr. "So? Are we going?"

Frelsa gave a sigh of relief as she saw Eragon and Saphira disappear into the hole. If he lost his mind she knew she couldn't leave this place.

_Come on, Frelsa. We must go into the breach._

As she mustered the courage to take the first step, nearly slipping on the stones still wet from last night's downpour, she wondered how Shepherd and Drukjl were.

* * *

When Shepherd woke again, he was in his bed. He hurriedly sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. His head pounded as if he'd drunk like a dwarf the past night. Judging by the light filtering down through the skylight it must be morning. He fell back onto his mattress. "Hell of a night, huh, Frelsa?"

There was no response. Shepherd glanced around the room. The shower rooms were open. The two beds at the far corners were empty, as usual, but Kalla's was as well. He tried to ignore the little monkey beating his brain like a drum and sat on the side of his bed.

"Errol? You there?" He called up at the skylight. Silence. _Seems not_, he thought.

Shepherd got to his feet unsteadily, and after wobbling a bit decided to use the wall as a support. He realised he was in a new tunic. He didn't want to know who had changed his clothes.

He found his sword on the ground some distance away and picked up the grey sword, Shorren, a perfectly straight sword, unnaturally long for a sword of its ilk, and attached it to his belt. But when you forged with brightsteel you could add certain features that would be devastating for a regular sword. Shorren was made to slash and hack, similar to an elven sword, but also made to stab through even the thickest armour easily.

He staggered to under the skylight to double check that Errol wasn't there. A mental probe brushed against his mind and he immediately retreated within his consciousness and erected walls of protection around his mind in anticipation.

The probe seemed perplexed that he had created his defences, tapping curiously on the walls. He heard it say something tinny to him. Shepherd cautiously lowered a section of his defences.

_ -ome down here, Shepherd!_

He recognised the voice as Drukjl's. _What?_

Drukjl snorted in annoyance. _About time you woke. I am here at your Human Corner's healer. Come down here, the blasted human won't let me in!_

_ Why did you want to go visit the healer? _Shepherd asked, bewildered. Urgals almost never entered Men's Corner, Drukjl included.

_To visit, Frelsa! She's being healed right now, and this human won't let me see her!_

_ Frelsa's being healed? Still?_ They must've crashed hours ago.

_The healer says she and Kalla have suffered greatly, and even with their greatest spells they cannot release her for a number of days. Let go of me, healer!_

Shepherd was already on his way out the door. _On my way, Ram. Oh, and do you have an idea where Errol is? _

_ OVER HERE! _

Shepherd looked up as he left his quarters. Up there, far above, was the underside of a grey dragon. With two, beautiful wings.

A smile spread across his face. He laughed. Shepherd raised both his arms and whooped as he saw Errol swoop down. Some of those around him shot looks and stares at him, but he didn't care. He heard a scholar, dressed in a ridiculous purple robe and headpiece, muttured, "Unacceptable. The standard of Riders these days." His companion, dressed in equally ridiculous robes, nodded along with him.

Shepherd was still whooping when Errol swooped down like an eagle, nothing but a steel blur, and grabbed his Rider with his claws and taking flight in a split-second. Some part of him said that this wasn't very safe. Screw it, the rest of him replied.

He screamed in glorious exaltation as he looked up at Errol, carrying him as he flew at breakneck speed. He swerved left and right, around and under other dragons and their Riders who yelled at them. Shepherd felt the wind blowing his short hair about, making his tunic ripple as they flew.

He opened his mind to Errol and was overwhelmed by the joy that flooded through.

_Your wing!_

_ Better than ever!_ Errol shouted mentally back. He glanced down as he flew and Shepherd saw him trying as hard he could to replicate a human smile with a face designed not to.

Errol roared as he swooped straight down to the road, pulling up less than a metre from the ground, buffeting a nearby Rider, Shahnz the Creep, causing him to fall backwards onto his beige dragon nearby. Dayine didn't budge as Shahnz cursed at them and their children.

Shepherd and his dragon flew through the sky, executing perfect manoevours, Errol enjoying the fact that he was whole yet again. The short span of time he spent awake and without a wing had been so alien, so strange, he had felt stunted, handicapped. Like it wasn't just a wing that had been ripped off, a very part of his soul. Ah, but what does it matter. He had his wing now, he had Shepherd in his claws. Life was good. For now.

_Yes, your wing has been returned to you, and I am glad for it, but you must make haste_, Dýrgrir's voice rang out in their minds._ Durkjl is not pleased with this healer._

Shepherd and Errol agreed. The dragon spread his wings and pulled into a steep dive towards the far side of Men's corner, where the healers' building was. Shepherd realised how dangerous it was to fly like that while Errol held him in his claws. He didn't care.

* * *

Within the tunnel, walking through the dank, dark passages was even worse than she imagined it would be. The tunnels themselves seemed to have been made with the size of dragons in mind, almost a hundred metres in width and half in height. It was so large that the ghostly pale light from Eragon's werelight, who himself walked in the middle of the tunnel, didn't even touch the far walls. Their footsteps echoed up and down the length of the tunnel, making it seem that there were a hundred Frelsas, Kallas, Eragons and Saphiras in the tunnel.

The tunnels had acute angles and were perfectly symmetrical and every inch was covered with grime or moss. There were countless junctions and crossroads they passed, side passages that stretched into darkness. Frelsa passed one passageway and thought she saw something down its length, a long bearded man with a yellowed scroll inspecting the wall. She backtracked hurriedly. Nothing but darkness. At one point, she saw out of the corner of her eye, an elf. He walked besides her, white cape billowing behind him. Tall and with handsome but weathered features, long white hair and sad eyes. His armour was beautiful and ornate, made of gilded ivory and joined with veins of silver. The elf held one arm up in the air and rested it on something invisible, like how one would while walking alongside their dragon. A white, sheathed sword hung from a fine leather belt. The elf didn't seem to notice that Frelsa was looking at him.

"Eragon… there is someone else…"

Her master didn't even turn around. "Don't touch him. His name is Vrael."

"Vrael? He's dead!"

"Indeed. The Last Leader before The Fall."

Frelsa noticed that his hand was resting on a huge white dragon, bigger than Saphira, but it seemed unsubstantial. Like the image of the dragon was seen from a distance underwater, constantly wavering. She asked Kalla, _What was the name of Vrael's dragon? _

_Umaroth._

She then asked Eragon, "Master, I see Umaroth walking along his Rider, but he is faded."

Eragon's response was nearly silent and sounded as if he could not find the right words. "He has not… passed completely. Not yet…"

She did not ask him about it again. Vrael's wraith followed every turn Eragon made. Every path Eragon knew, Vrael's wraith knew. At first Frelsa suspected he was following them. But soon, she realised that he didn't even notice them. At one point, his armoured arm passed straight through Kalla's side, who jumped back exclaiming, _Cold!_

Frelsa walked closer to Kalla as another image materialised. A regal looking woman, armoured in flowing plates of armour. She also rested his hand like Vrael, but her hand rested on the substantial form of a large, copper coloured dragon clad in overlapping plates of tempered steel, just as or bigger than the image of Umaroth. The copper coloured dragon's tail swung from side to side and its tip grazed Frelsa's shoulder. She jerked away and realised what Kalla had meant by cold.

"Ebrithil…"

"Eragon, not Ebrithil. And fear not these wraiths. They are shadows of the past. They can't hurt you, they are here to turn back the meek."

She didn't say so but she was feeling pretty meek right now.

Down another passage, Frelsa saw an elf standing next to a pile of bricks before an empty space, before casting a spell and causing the bricks to fly into space, forming a wall. She blinked, and the elf was gone. The wall was like any other.

"Eragon, I realised you have not told me of your plight yet." Frelsa needed something to get her mind off the dead Riders and the beings here replaying the roles they had in life.

"I did say I would. Well, walk closer to me and Saphira. It would not do to lose you down here."

"Seventy years ago, King Galbatorix was in a mad search for one thing. A secret. When I confronted him, I realised that he had searched for, and found, the true name of the Ancient Language. Do not ask me for the name, I shall not tell you. But in the treasures we uncovered from the ruins of his collapsed castle after his demise, I found hundreds of tomes and crumbling scrolls in his quarters. I inspected each personally and found they were all from the old library on Vroengard. He had written unintelligible scribbles all over every page and made hurried side notes. I at first suspected that these books were the ones he had used in his effort to find the true name of the Ancient Language, but upon further inspection I found that he had studied the books the very day he had perished. He had found the name by then, so why study further?"

They took a left down a five way crossroads.

"I took his tomes and scrolls and inspected each and every page. In his scribbles I found reference to a curse, of sorts, a responsibility bestowed upon a Rider against their choice."

"What is this curse?" Frelsa asked.

"Do not interrupt, but you shall understand it in time. Galbatorix was a powerful Rider, but even at the peak of his reign he feared one thing."

"What is that?"

"No interruptions. I found in his journals dating to before the Fall that Vrael had grown weak and fallen from grace. I then researched into Vrael's life before the Fall and found he had been disowned by his parents renounced by his loved ones and friends. Now in the journal of Galbatorix's, I found that in his search for the Name, he had invariably discovered a secret. A secret revealed only to the Leader of the Riders at any time."

Eragon paused. "I am about to share information that could break the will of many if carelessly told. You must swear never to reveal what I tell you to others unless Saphira and I can no longer contain it."

She and Kalla swore as such.

"Now as time wore on, Galbatorix became more desperate in his search to learn of the secret. I found in many ancient tomes of his references to a great danger that would come to pass. I was intrigued, and found a scroll that connected this danger to the Riders. More specifically, the Leaders of the Riders. I was panning through a tome and found and found an interesting chapter on the Leader before Vrael, the War maiden Simal."

Frelsa glanced at the woman with the copper dragon.

"Her mother it appears died in childbirth, and her father was said to lavish his love upon his child. But when she ascended to her post as Leader he disowned her, much lilke Vrael's parents. I also found that she had a sister and a lover, both of whom renounced ties with her like her father. I found this strange, so I researched into the life of many previous Leaders of the Riders and was amazed to see that they had lost all connections with friends and relatives from their past upon ascending to their post. Not one of them had children or married. There were also reports of their power steadily weakening as they held their position which, along with death, seemed to be the prevailing reason that they eventually stepped down."

"Now Galbatorix found this intriguing too. He was a tyrant, but also learned. He knew that it could not have been coincidence that the Leaders had lost all close to them. And during his reign, many horrible plights struck the land. An earthquake, Ra'zac plagued the peoples and the Urgal clans ran rampant with an uncharacteristic rage. None of these were caused by Galbatorix himself, but even by his dethroning the king. I found that it was caused by his slaying of Vrael."

"How?"

"Ah, I asked the same question. After Galbatorix had scattered the Riders, the rest of the world continued as well they could. When he formed the Empire, they still continued as well they could. But the moment Galbatorix sought out Vrael and slew him, it all fell to turmoil. An earthquake struck just a year after, destroying several of the Beor Mountains. The Ra'zac ran wild in the streets until the King culled them and subverted the last two and their steeds and parents to his will. The Urgals burned villages and killed as never before, their reasons unknown. Galbatorix used his powers to halt their warpath and keep them under his thrall. He was a tyrant, yes. But through his actions he had saved many, even if it were to let them continue serving him. He searched for a reason why these horrors had plagued his kingdom. I discovered that in all surviving texts from periods when the Riders were without Leaders for long periods of time disasters sprung about all over Alagaësia, wars raged, droughts and famine. None of these could have all sprung about by one Rider's death."

Eragon exhaled, as if preparing himself to behold some great secret to her. "There were abscure texts in strange languages I had recovered in my journeys, through no little effort, and many referenced to some great danger chained and kept imprisoned under the dirt. So great was he that even the Dragon's might would pallor in his presence, and so spiteful was he that if let loose upon this world he would burn all civilisation to ashes. Age old bonds placed upon his cage were enough to hold him back, barely. But his power constantly assailed his prison, so much so that without a continuous supply of magic reinforcements they would crumble. That is the reason why it was said that the Rider's Leaders steadily deteriorated as they continued in this position, for this power came from-"

"Them…" Frelsa looked at Eragon with renewed awe. He had allowed an ancient spell to siphon off his powers every day and every night to hold back a threat which could mean death for all if released. "And this is this Danger's prison? Under the mountain?"

"Yes. I made this island the new Vroengard, as I could have easy access to the Danger to repair his prison and mentor my students."

All this time she had lived without knowledge that a stone's throw away from where she slept was a beast of some sort that could devastate their all Alagaësia.

"But why did-" she had nearly said 'you'. "-they lose all their loved ones."

Eragon stopped. He turned back to look at her and she saw endless sorrow and emptiness in his eyes. "Such is the manner of the curse. The Danger will find holes in his prison through which his magic can go forth and alter the lives and minds of those he chooses. His reach is far, but he cannot harm those that give their lives to keep him chained. But he takes great pleasure in turning those around them against them."

He subconsciously rubbed a scar on his lower arm. He could have healed it long ago, so why didn't he? He and Saphira continued walking. "You see why I did not wish to share this secret with Arya?"

"But… what will happen to me?" She wasn't sure she would want to live the rest of her life alone, with only Kalla as her confidant.

"You… I have no knowledge what plights the Danger will thrust upon you, if you survive the journey."

He resumed his account. "I chanced upon this island as Saphira, I and several elves sailed the seas to find a new home for the dragons and Riders. It seemed the perfect home, isolated from Alagaësia by the Northern length of the Spine that ringed the edges of Du Weldenvarden. I had not learnt of its deadly past until after the first eggs had hatched. Now this Danger, he uses those same holes in his prison to perform his deeds throughout Alagaësia. Implanting the idea to make a shade into the minds of a group of sorcerers. Bestowing upon a dragon the need to steal a few sheep from those farmers. But as he tries to break free, every second he comes closer to shattering his chains as I grow ever weaker and his power wanes. This Danger has come within an inch of freeing himself, and that inch will be halved by the time we reach him as he senses my presence. The chains binding him have grown more taxing to sustain. Occasionally, they take in a large portion of my energy in a short period of time. It is not very, comfortable."

Frelsa remembered the fits Eragon and Saphira had suffered from that one moment in the caves and at the entrance to the tunnels.

"It appears that there are a few who can sense when the bonding spells do this, such as Fírnen who felt an anomaly on this island all the way from Ellesmera."

They took a side passage on the left wall.

"The fits are _very_ unpleasant. My last master, Oromis, a Rider who had suffered through the Fall and survived along with his dragon, Glaedr, thought he could put an end to the blights on the land during Galbatorix's reign. He had learnt through great tedium of the curse, and thought himself strong enough to be its new donor of energy and journeyed to this island. It did not proceed well. Oromis had been cursed by one of the Forsworn during the Fall, and the curse had stunted his magical prowess to that of a complete novice. The curse under this mountain, coupled with the one the Forsworn had cast upon him, reacted violently. The bonds deemed him unsuitable as their donor of magic, and he would be plagued by fits akin to mine till the day he died."

"Might I ask something, Ebrithil?"

"Ask away."

"Could you not leave the chains without energy for a while? They lasted throughout the entire period of Galbatorix's reign without breaking."

"That they did, but they were much stronger then. They lasted so long only through the powers previous Leaders had invested in them. Galbatorix had never found the secret he searched for, but would not have willingly offered himself to the curse anyway. When I found the cage, the bonds were at their breaking point. I was honour bond to offer myself up to keep the chains linked in the hopes of holding back the Danger."

As he ended his story, Frelsa felt the same way she had when she first saw him with the magnificent blue behemoth by his side. Awestruck, speechless, in total wonder.

_What do you think lies under the mountain? _She asked Kalla.

_I'd say a powerful being of some sort._

_ You know that's impossible right? How could something survive so long underground without light, food or water and still be strong enough to use his powers on those far away? It must be a magical anomaly of some sort, self-sustaining blob of pure energy._

_ Improbable, not impossible. Dragons can stay within our eggs for decades, and we can hibernate for years without food. It is not out of the question that one could induce such a state through magic. And to do such work requires the reasoning that comes with sentience. No magic blob lies chained there._

Frelsa thought about it. Kalla's words _were_ true, and it frustrated her whenever she lost an argument. At least it wasn't against Shepherd.

* * *

28-11-13

These typos are really getting on my nerves. I have to look through the whole 9,000 word chapter that I'd already read through in Word and find these mysterious typos that pop up. If any of you know how to deal with this annoyance, please do tell. Anyways, chapter 4 is complete. I wrote up a 9,000 chapter this time in response to a private message from one of you. Hopefully, it doesn't sound too awkward when you read through it. I also didn't know whether to write from one of my OC's or Arya's pov, so why not both? Leave a review on how you think this chapter is, and if I am open to criticism. You can never get good unless you're told how bad you are. Also, if you have any suggestions on the directions this story could go from here you can add that in a review.

P.S. Chapter 5 probably won't be released on schedule, tomorrow that is, due to some complications. But it will be released, latest by the day after next.


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